


(500) Days of Jaime

by ellaria



Series: (500) Days [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kickboxing, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 69,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellaria/pseuds/ellaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brienne woke up, the first thing she felt was stiffness in her back, like she had slept in a bad position all night long. After rubbing her eyes she understood why: she was sleeping inside a bathtub. Not her bathtub, <i>a</i> bathtub. She was wearing something tight and itchy, and found herself dressed in white, then remembered wedding dresses were supposed to be uncomfortable according to Sansa.</p><p>Direct sequel to (500) Days of Brienne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 100 – 10:00 AM - Bathtub

**Author's Note:**

> This little 50,000 word monster, 90% finished at the moment, will contain the following: drugs, vows, a tad of The Hangover, Lannisters everywhere you look, snakes, corporate schemes and last but not least: SMUT. A lot of it. There's smut here from beginning to end (really, this could have just been called (500) Days of Smut) so I won't post warnings on every chapter.
> 
> As always I don’t own anything, GRRM owns it all.
> 
> I will continue to post double and triple chapters, so I will just add tags enclosed like this [Chapter X – Chapter Y] so you’ll know they’re multiple-chapter updates. And of course the songs are a given, too. Day 1 here is day 501 in the previous continuity.
> 
> Last but not least, this piece is for every single one of my lovely commenters and everyone who left their kudos in (500) Days of Brienne, it is such a joy to write knowing that you’re reading on the other side! I would have never even considered writing a sequel without you guys, so you have my infinite thanks!
> 
> Feedback is treasured and hugged and appreciated and squeezed and loved. Comments literally make me squeal. Enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks to Ro Nordmann for the gorgeous official series banner! <3
> 
> Notes for chapter 1: [ Chapter 1 (Bathtub), Chapter 2 (Lannister) | Song: Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Gold Lion ]

**100 – 10:00 AM  
** (Bathtub)

When Brienne woke up, the first thing she felt was stiffness in her back, like she had slept in a bad position all night long. After rubbing her eyes she understood why: she was sleeping inside a bathtub. Not her bathtub, _a_ bathtub. She was wearing something tight and itchy, and found herself dressed in white, then remembered wedding dresses were supposed to be uncomfortable according to Sansa.

Her mouth was completely dry and she smelled heavily of cigarettes and smoke. Once she managed to make her head stop spinning, she opened the curtain of the tub and the sudden burst of daylight nearly blinded her, sending a stab of pain to her head.

"Jaime?" she called out, but there was no response. The sound of her own voice hammered in her head.

When her eyes were slightly more accustomed to the light and her legs stopped cramping, she got out of the bathroom and found herself in a hotel room. _Okay. I got married. A hotel room makes sense_. Wait, this wasn't _her_ hotel room – it was Sansa's. She could tell by the presence of her pink suitcase in a corner.

_Am I sure I got married?_ She glanced at her hand and found her sapphire engagement ring in her finger, but her wedding ring was not sitting next to it. Instead there was a plastic ring with half a strawberry candy diamond on it, with pieces of dust and dirt stuck to it.

By then she was completely puzzled by her current state of affairs. She wondered what she should do first, and thought she should see if there was anyone else in the room. A quick inspection indicated she was alone. Something was digging into her back, so she reached out and grabbed it. It turned out to be a keycard for a hotel room, but when she tried it on the door, there was no reaction.

Her next move should be locating herself in time and space, so she looked for her cell phone to see what time it was, but it was nowhere to be seen, either.

Brienne remembered Sansa's room was one floor below the honeymoon suite, which Tyrion had insisted on getting them as a present. She headed for the elevator, wrestling between the embarrassment of being a hung-over bride running down a hotel corridor and the headache that threatened to split her skull in two.

When she got to her room the door was miraculously unlocked, but when she went inside she found nothing. The bed was perfectly made, everything was untouched. She looked for her suitcases or purse, but they were nowhere to be seen; it was like they had never even entered the room.

All she had left to check was Dany and Margaery's room next to Sansa's. The door opened with a click when she ran the key card through it, finally establishing the correct owner of the key. She got the first sign of life when she saw Margaery snoring softly on her bed, sleeping face down, covered by the sheets. The bathroom door was closed and she figured that's where Dany must be.

She shook the brunette awake. When she moved and her sheet dropped slightly, Brienne noticed she was wearing nothing underneath. She averted her eyes immediately, cheeks reddening in the process.

"Well, hello, blushing bride," Margaery mumbled with a smile. "I see you took such a liking to your dress that you haven't taken it off."

Brienne gazed at her and noticed she had sat down on the bed, covering herself with the sheets. She mouthed "Are you alone?" and gestured toward the bathroom door, but before the girl could reply, it opened and a very naked Robb Stark walked out.

Once more she looked away, having her fill of naked people for the day. The young man was caught off guard and closed the door immediately from the surprise, the noise hitting Brienne's head like a mace. Margaery giggled.

"Okay," the blonde said, "I think I may have woken up in some sort of parallel universe. You have _got_ to tell me what's going on."

Margaery turned her head sideways, looking puzzled. "You'll have to be more specific, Bri. I should be the one asking you what’s going on."

The girl sighed. "I should start by asking where's my husband, my cell phone and/or my room." She shook her head. "No, you know what? I can start by asking if I even have a husband." She showed her the plastic ring.

Margaery burst out laughing at the sight. "Oh gods, I meant the ring thing as a joke! I can't believe Sansa was so literal!" Brienne's head pounded without the slightest clue of what Margaery was talking about. The brunette continued, "Okay. What's the last thing you remember?"

Brienne ran her hands over her temples, massaging them softly. Margaery got the hint and picked up the phone on the bedside table. For some godsforsaken reason she ordered something called a “Prairie oyster”, whatever that was. She also handed her a pill from her nightstand and a glass of water to gulp it down.

"Okay… You and Sansa were dressing me, Dany did my hair… You guys gave me some champagne. Sansa stuck a ton of make-up on my face." She paused to think. "We had some brownies delivered to the room. Then I remember laughing at something Sansa said." She tried to recall what happened after, but her mind was drawing a blank. 

Margery's eyes went wide. "Oh. Shit. Did you order those brownies?"

"Of course not. I was too busy getting manhandled by all of you."

"Sansa's room is next to Tyrion's, isn't it?" The girl laughed under her breath. "I think they had the wrong room."

Brienne's mouth dropped open. "Were those…?"

Margaery nodded. "I had no idea because I didn't try them. When you were ready I started helping Dany with the flowers in the sept. I left you with Sansa."

Brienne shook her head. "Okay, wait. Where's Jaime? Did we get married or not?"

Margaery looked away in avoidance. "Well, um... I got kind of busy when the flowers were ready." She pointed at the bathroom, where Robb was probably reading every magazine known to man. "I came back at seven, which was the time we all agreed on. I looked for you guys and since I didn't find you I figured you'd gotten an earlier shift or something."

"And then?"

"I waited for you guys to call, but my phone never rang. I tried calling, but none of you picked up, either. I swung by the casino to see if you were hanging out there, but I didn't see any of you. Then they offered Robb and me some free cocktails during happy hour and two minutes of poker turned into the rest of the night."

Brienne felt deflated. She was certainly not moving forward.

"Where did you wake up?" The brunette asked finally.

"The bathtub in Sansa's room."

Margaery directed a resigned glance at her. "I have no idea what else I can tell you. But if you give me a few minutes, I'll help you look."

Brienne shook her head, gesturing at the bathroom door and smiling. "But I’d appreciate it of you could lend me your phone so I can find mine."

"Sure." The girl handed it to her. “If you need anything you can dial his number.” She winked.

Brienne had barely left the room when she was already calling her cell. She walked all the way down the corridor, went back into Sansa's room and into the honeymoon suite, but found nothing.

When she was walking by Tyrion's room she heard her familiar ‘Charge’ ballpark ringtone and stopped abruptly. She knocked several times and waited for him to open, but there was no response. She shyly tugged at the door and noticed it was unlocked, so she went in with her hand covering her eyes, hoping she wouldn't have to see more naked people this morning, other than the man who may or may not be her husband.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "Tyrion, are you here?"

She uncovered her eyes at the lack of a reply and noticed the room was empty, but it was completely upside down. The sheets were messy, one edge of the mattress covers hanging off. One of the pillows had ripped open and there were feathers spread over half the room. There were three empty bottles of wine on the floor next to the bed, and the room smelled strongly of cigarettes.

Her heart stopped when she found her garter (which Dany had insisted on) between the sheets, along with an empty Ring-Pop wrapping. She connected the dots, grabbed the hem of the seemingly infinite long skirt of her wedding dress and smelled it. Cigarettes.

She was _really_ wishing this was _not_ Tyrion's room, or that those were not her things. Then she remembered she was looking for her cell phone and dialed once more. Her suitcases, purse and the aforementioned device were inside the half-open closet.

"Oh, shit," she said to no one in particular, dropping Margaery’s cell phone subconsciously. "This just keeps getting better."


	2. 1 - Lannister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 1 (Bathtub), Chapter 2 (Lannister) | Song: Cake’s version of Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps ]

**1  
** (Lannister)

“I haven’t said yes,” Brienne told him for the hundredth time as she finished brushing her teeth. “I can’t emphasize it enough.”

“You’ll come around,” Jaime said confidently without even looking up from the business section of the newspaper in his hand. The other sections were sprawled over their bed. For a reason beyond her understanding, he was watching C-SPAN.

The room finally felt like a place to call her own. All her clothes were settled in her half of the closet, but unlike many other women, she had few clothes, so there was still a lot of empty space. Her books were perfectly organized in a bookcase by an armchair, and the angry stuffed bear he had given her rested atop it.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I have to get a job at some point. And like it or not I’m going to end up in Lannister & Co., so might as well just start from there. But first I need to check out what I’ll be getting myself into.”

Brienne watched him curiously as she sat to tie her shoes. “You can work wherever you want.”

He laughed bitterly. “There won’t be a single company that would dare hire me at risk of defying my father. I have been at every function, gala and event thrown by the company since I was a teenager. I’ve had to memorize faces, relationships and company positions for countless people. They all know me, and most importantly, they know _him_. He will never say I can’t find a job for myself, but he’ll strangle me out of options nonetheless.”

She felt like a fool when she heard him. Games of intrigue and wars for power in big corporations were a blank for her, and she was convinced that she would not be learning it anytime soon. She felt naïve when she realized how easy she thought it was for him to make his own choices, but she had to know better than that. Tywin Lannister was inexorable in his decisions, indispensable for those who got on his good graces, and a nightmare for any who dared confront him. His children received no less from him, they were steered implacably toward the plans he had set, given properties, cars, more money than they could spend in their lives, but he also cut their wings the minute they were born. Brienne had learned to see the other side of the golden dragon; you will be protected, pulled out of the most scandalous situations, your record will be wiped clean time and again. But you will grow a Lannister, work like a Lannister and put the family name above anything else.

She thought of the small box inside her pocket, making her heart beat faster. Her father had lands, a heritage, her little island in the sea. He had wanted her to marry once, he had wanted to see his family grow and grandchildren to protect the Sapphire Isle. But he had loved her, understood her and more than anything else he had let her be her own person. When she wanted to fight she took him to Goodwin, when she said she wanted to be a sports journalist he had enrolled her in Highgarden so she could receive a private education that would better her chances at getting into Kingsland University. There were days when the guilt crept into her, knowing she was so far away from him, building her dream day by day and article by article.

She glanced fondly at Jaime, watching his green eyes focused on the paper. _What would my father think? Marrying a Lannister? Would he be disappointed?_

Did she want to be part of the empire that made and unmade millionaires, companies, politicians? The empire that built and destroyed entire lives? The ring felt like an anvil inside her pocket, heavy with the weight of a decision that now more than ever urged her to choose between her reason and her heart.

As she warmed up the car to leave for work, she glanced at the house. She had not lived there for even a month, but Jaime had made her so comfortable that it felt like much longer. He had made an effort just for her. She dreamed of separating his name from his legacy, her Jaime from their Lannister, but dreams were useless. What she needed was an answer.

–––

When she got off the least productive day of work in her life, she knew there was only one place where she could go. When Daenerys opened the door she gave her a big smile and let her in with a hello. Two of her now grown kittens were sleeping, but the white one approached her curiously and rubbed his head against her leg with a meow.

The silver-haired girl lived in a mansion passed on to Targaryens generation after generation. It was very close to the Great Sept of Baelor and excluding the Red Keep, it was the most beautiful construction she had set foot on, built in the style of the Free Cities. It had an open oval shaped terrace with a pool and many benches with piles of soft cushions. The gardens around it left her breathless with the beauty of its flowers and fruit trees. Her black cat was sleeping peacefully under a bush of blue hydrangeas.

She received her in that terrace. Her housekeeper served them tea and fruits in a coffee table, big red strawberries, grapes and figs. When Brienne pulled the velvet box out of her pocket, she called Missandei and asked her to please bring them some wine. The matter demanded it.

Brienne handed her the box without a word. The girl opened it and gasped at the sight of the ring, then smiled brightly. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like this. He must have had it made for you.”

She nodded, still speechless. She wasn’t sure where to begin, so Dany did. “I think you’re really in a crossroads to come to me.”

The blonde smiled sadly. “I know them all too well to expect helpful advice. Sansa will say yes, she’ll beam and make up scenarios and plans and celebrate. Margaery will tell me I’d be insane to do it.”

Dany nodded as Missandei arrived and poured them two glasses of white wine. “You want neutral, you’ll have it.” She looked into her eyes in that special way she did, which made her feel like she could read her and understand her unease. “You love him. It took both of you a lot to move forward.” She sipped her wine. “You’re happy with him and you’re good at neutralizing each other’s natures.”

She placed the glass back on the table and a slight frown appeared in her forehead, looking like a completely foreign element in her sweet, gentle face. “He’s a Lannister. He’s also impulsive and reckless. Marrying him would bring you closer, but it would also make _you_ a Lannister. Are you ready for that?”

Brienne went back to her thoughts from that morning and shook her head slowly. “I wish… I could have just him.”

Dany smiled. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Bri. Lannisters are merciless with their enemies and a constant threat even to their friends. Tywin Lannister owns half the world and gets to handpick every powerful man and woman in the Seven States. Jaime is not Tywin Lannister.”

Brienne looked up at that.

“But he’s no sheep either. He’ll be a lion and it might be expected of you to live up to it if he means to stay on his father’s good side.” She placed her hand on hers gently. “But he will also protect you like a lion.”

Brienne remained silent, listening to the breeze blowing against the trees of the garden. She watched a yellow butterfly hovering around the flowers, coming to rest on the cat’s tail. _Do I want to be protected?_

“He doesn’t approve.”

Dany was taken aback. “Tywin has met you?”

“At a gala. Jaime took me there. He and Cersei took turns rejecting me.” She sighed. “It was a while ago.”

To her surprise, the silver-haired girl flashed her a smile. “Brienne, don’t you see? He’s made a choice.”

“I don’t understand…”

She poured more wine on the glass and drank with the elegance of a queen in a palace. “He chose you above his father. I told you, no one defies Tywin Lannister, especially not his heirs. But he did it for you. And as if that were not enough, he’s asked you to marry him.” She laughed. “That should piss off the old man.”

Brienne’s eyes opened wide. “If he’s risking all this…”

“I don’t think it’s an impulse,” Dany confirmed, “but you know him better than anyone. As for you, you have to think about what the rest of your life will look like if he’s the one you choose to spend it with. He’s jumping into this; you either jump down with him or step away. There’s no meeting him halfway.” She sipped her wine and an air of sadness invaded her violet eyes. “You came because you think I’ve lived a thousand lives. I have, I have been everything, a beggar, a fearful girl, a rich woman for all my days. So I will tell you what you want to know. What you came here to ask.”

The blonde nodded, dumbfounded at the young girl’s wisdom and ability to read her like an open book.

“When you give your love, you must give it completely or not at all. Love breaks you, hurts you, makes a fool of you. But should the day come when that love is dead, you will have no regrets. You will know that it wasn’t on you.”

–––

Jaime was wondering where Brienne had gone when she took longer than expected getting a glass of water from the kitchen. They were watching an NFL game analysis on ESPN in bed, with a whole commentary attached to it, half of which was Brienne complaining about how biased the sportscaster was, and the other half was Jaime saying he was absolutely right to question the team restructuring of The Black Ears.

He found her sitting on the couch, completely lost in thought, staring at her hand. When she heard his footsteps on the stairway, she immediately moved it out of sight.

“I haven’t said yes,” the girl reminded him, before he could start one more round of the conversation. He could have just recorded it the first time and played it over and over again and it would have had the same effect.

Jaime couldn’t help but direct a grin toward her. “You’re wearing it.”

She blushed, realizing that he had noticed the ring on her finger. “I’m not.” She pulled it out clumsily and set it back inside the box. “I was just thinking.”

“You keep doing that. I’m telling you it’s no good.”

“Well, one of us has to think, and most certainly it’s not you,” she snapped back.

He slumped down on the couch next to her, gazing at the velvet box in her hand. “So you think a man who wants to marry you must be out of his mind?”

She pursed her lips. “Well, no, but–”

“It makes for an interesting conundrum.” He ran the tip of his finger over her bare thigh. She liked wearing pajama shorts to sleep, fresher for the warm days they had been facing. The shorter, the better, he thought, so he had taken to buying them for her every once in a while. Every time they were skimpier and the current pair had bunnies on it, much to his amusement and her dismay. “Either marry a madman, or die a spinster.”

“I don’t think you’re mad, I just think that–”

He ran his finger higher and higher until he reached her hip. Then he slid closer to her and whispered, “There you go again. All that thinking is going to upset your poor brain.” Mischief invaded his features. He pressed his body against her, pushing her toward the cushions slightly until she was almost lying down. When she started getting comfortable, he snatched the box away from her and raised his eyebrows. “I’m just going to take this back, since it troubles you so.” He sat back up with a satisfied smile.

She immediately jumped on him, trying to take the ring from his hand, but he made a defensive wall with his right arm while keeping the box firmly grasped. “You can’t take it back!” she exclaimed, forcing her body against him and concentrating all her strength in shoving his arm out of the way.

He flung her into a lying position and straddled her firmly, keeping her in place while pressing on her chest to stop her from raising her torso. His left hand hid the ring behind him and he shook his head. “Poor, poor Brienne, having to suffer this dilemma.”

Her whole body struggled desperately to shake him off, but Jaime’s thighs were steady. “Give it back!”

Instead of listening, he slipped the ring between the cushions behind him and ran his hand over her ribs, feeling her skin turn to goosebumps against the unexpected touch. She grew frustrated and tried to knee him in the crotch to no avail. He pressed his lips against the flesh beneath her chin, making her shudder and draw in a soft breath in spite of herself. His cock stirred in his boxers, the blood beginning to well up at a speedy rate. He bit her neck and pulled on the skin, just roughly enough to irritate her. “Poor helpless Brienne… Will a hero please come and save her?”

Brienne grunted in exasperation, gathering all her strength to push him away, but the most she managed to do was sit down with him still straddling her. His right arm had lost its grip on her, but he used his now free left hand to wrestle each of her arms in turn as she tried to reach behind him for the box. The second he managed to grab a hold of both her hands with his, he did not waste the opportunity to push her closer down against his hips with his right arm, rubbing his erection between her thighs with urgency. She made a sound that began as a growl and ended in a moan, unrestricted her hands from his grasp and as he went to grip her again, she slapped his hand away and they pushed and pulled and tangled until they fell down to the floor.

Jaime sat down and hauled her violently towards him, she pressed her knee against his chest and pushed him down to submission. Now it was her straddling him, her rubbing herself against him. She pulled his hair and ran her lips down his earlobe and bit him; he fumbled with his boxers, pulling them down as little as he could. Without moving her position, now entertaining his neck, the blonde pulled out his cock with growing impatience. Then, to his surprise, she did not even bother taking off her underwear or her shorts, simply moving the cloth smoothly to one side before sliding him inside her with a fierceness he had never seen in her.

She kissed him like it was her last day in the world; he returned each and every kiss, drowning in the taste of her tongue. She had become so aroused that her walls were closing tightly around him, making his head spin and prompting him to match her thrust by thrust in their impromptu lovemaking, getting him closer, closer, way too close…

When she saw that he was about to finish, she stopped the motion of her hips completely, clutching her muscles around him in an impossibly tight manner. She looked deep into his eyes with her astonishing gaze, seeking to subdue him. “Give it to me,” she said softly, but firmly.

He bit his lower lip through a big grin and replied, “I believe that’s what I’m doing right now.”

She shook her head without even blinking, sliding him out and into her again as slowly as she could. He groaned at her motion, he was too close to the edge, just about to, he wanted to shove himself inside her as hard as he could, she was so wet and ready for him…

He took in a deep breath and fumbled for the box amongst the cushions without even looking, grasping with his hand until he felt the velvet. He pulled out the ring clumsily and handed it to her. She shook her head, resuming her motion, slowly at first, then faster, tighter, and he was too euphoric from their power struggle, too smitten by her reaction. He engulfed her in an almost indecent kiss and thrust his cock inside her as far as it would go as he came, and seconds later she was coming with him, panting into his ear, sweat dripping through her clothes.

Jaime continued to kiss her, finally feeling clear-headed enough to understand why she had not taken the ring from him seconds before. A strand of hair covered a part of her face and her cheeks were flushed, small drops of sweat on her temples. But when he saw her eyes, radiant in the dim light coming from the lamp, he had nothing more to ask. He took her left hand into his, kissed the inside of her wrist and placed the ring on her finger.

“A sapphire,” he whispered into her ear. “Like your eyes.”


	3. 100 – 10:30 AM - Desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 3 (Desert), Chapter 4 (Green) ]  
> The song for this is A Horse with no Name by America. 
> 
> Some notes:  
> \- For this fic I’ve decided to keep two things that I feel give a very Westeros type of atmosphere: family sigils and the idea of a House. I’ve always felt the importance of family and heritage is one of the most remarkable aspects of GRRM’s world, so I’m assuming this might survive in a modern world as a religious tradition through the Faith of the Seven.  
> \- This is the shirt I make a reference to: http://postimg.org/image/5ooyd6xo3. I could not RESIST.
> 
> As always thanks so much to my lovely commenters for their feedback!

**100 – 10:30 AM  
** (Desert)

When Brienne checked her messages, she didn't find herself in a much better position than she was before. There were virtually no new texts. It made sense, considering that everyone from her very reduced circle of friends was currently where she was and had probably spent the last hours with her, even if she had no memory of it. She saw several of Margaery’s missed calls after 7 PM.

The only unread message she found said 'TV620', which was as cryptic as it could get. She had no brains to decipher the code at the moment, so she decided to get out of her ridiculously tight wedding dress, replacing it with a pair of jeans and the first t-shirt she found. It was grey, with a pair of pink boxing gloves and the text ‘I hit like a boy’, a gift from Jaime. She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and drive away her foul drunken breath.

When she left the room she ran into Margaery and Robb in the hallway. "Did you find it?" the girl asked.

Brienne nodded and handed her back her cell phone. Then she pulled her by the arm without a single word and pushed her into Tyrion's room, pointing at the incriminating evidence on the bed.

Margaery was at a loss of words, completely baffled by the sight. "Are you _sure_ this is Tyrion's room?"

Brienne nodded with a panicked expression. The brunette laughed nonchalantly. "Impossible," she stated. "I think it's even _physically_ impossible. It'd be like a Great Dane and a Daschund."

"Margaery!"

"I’m just saying!" The brunette interjected, throwing her hands in the air with eyes full of amusement. "What I meant was that you would never, ever. And neither would he. All we need to do is find them." She hooked her arm into Brienne's and led her back out to the hallway, locking the door behind her.

–––

They sat in one of the tables of the hotel’s restaurant waiting for their breakfast. Margaery had refused to let Brienne begin a search with an empty stomach. The blonde was wearing Sansa’s sunglasses, which she had found in her purse, in order to shield her eyes from the bright light of day. Margaery had the drink she had ordered served there, so Brienne hadn't been able to escape it. It had turned out to be a mix between raw eggs, hot sauce and condiments, especially designed for her hangover needs. At first she thought she might throw up from the taste, but twenty minutes later she was feeling slightly better and had even been able to take the sunglasses off.

When they were done with their toast Brienne pulled out a map of Sunspear and spread it over the table. Robb set the pepper and the salt on opposite corners to keep it from doubling over.

"I think we should start at the casino," he suggested. "We can both tell it's a pretty absorbing place. They keep refilling your drink and there's not a single window or watch in the place."

Brienne agreed with a nod.

"Then what?" Margaery asked.

He inspected the map and stayed quiet for a while, evaluating every option. "I'd say restaurants first." He ran his hand through his auburn hair. "If that fails, then drugstores. Might be they wanted some pills or Gatorade."

Brienne interrupted. "Sansa not being here is especially weird. I don't know where she'd go without us. She'd call or write. So would Dany."

Margaery nodded. "Let's assume for now that Sansa and Dany are in one group. Tyrion, Jaime and Shae must be in another group."

Robb's mouth twisted. "That makes things even harder." He pulled his cell phone out of his jean pocket. "We might have to split. Theon can help us out. I'll have to interrupt his little encounter with that girl from last night, though..."

–––

They had resolved to split in teams of two. Margaery went with Brienne and Robb stayed at the hotel looking for Theon, who was not picking up his cell (the man had a tendency to become self-absorbed during his quite frequent one-night stands). The visit to the casino was fruitless; even in the bathrooms there was no sign of any of their friends.

They agreed to cover the restaurants while Robb and Theon searched the nearby drugstores. The fact that they were in Sunspear complicated things enormously; it was a huge city where everything worked twenty-four hours, so any place they could think of was open. There was no way to rule them out.

By noon they had fruitlessly checked out every single restaurant in a three-mile radius. Brienne was so exasperated she turned to Margaery and bellowed, "This is useless! We need to call the police and ask if they know anything."

She had been avoiding it out of anxiety to receive exceedingly bad news, but they couldn't visit every single restaurant in the city. She Googled the nearest station's number and dialed.

"Sunspear PD," a masculine voice replied. "How may I help you?"

"Good afternoon. We're looking for some of our friends and we wanted to know if you have any information."

"Hold for one second, ma'am."

Some instrumental jazz started playing. Brienne rolled her eyes. About four minutes later, a different voice was on the line. "Good afternoon, would you please tell me your friends’ full names?"

"Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Shae..." She gestured at Margaery wondering if she knew her last name, but the brunette shrugged. "I don't have her full name. There's also Sansa Stark and Daenerys Targaryen."

The man at the other end of the line paused. "Well, ma'am, it just so happens that today is your lucky day. Somewhat, anyway."

–––

Jaime's expression when the girls found him was as relieved as Brienne had ever seen it. She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she signed the documents presented to her once she had come back from the ATM in the corner to gather enough cash to post his bail.

"Indecent exposure?" She asked in a high-pitched voice once they opened his cell.

Jaime shrugged. "I have no memory of it... But they have a video and everything. Apparently I went to a drugstore and then I stopped at an aisle and took off my clothes 'cause it was too hot. I was probably right, too. This fucking city is killing me with the humidity." He slumped the jacket of his black tux over his shoulder after giving Brienne a peck on the lips.

Brienne snorted as the three of them walked out of the station with emptier pockets and four people short. "Not even a day married and you're already showing everyone the goods."

Jaime stopped on his tracks. "Oh," he said, "about that…"

The blonde blinked, feeling hopeful that she might finally get some new information. "What is it?"

"I can't find my ring." He showed her his left hand.

Brienne couldn't help but laugh under her breath.

"We don't even know if you're married," Margaery explained with a smirk.

–––

Jaime racked his brain trying to recall what happened once they entered the sept in the hotel, but he was at a loss. The last thing that came to his mind was arriving early, a very well established habit in any meeting involving Brienne, most especially his wedding.

But when he got there she was already waiting for him, next to Sansa and Daenerys.

From the very familiar expression on her face he knew she was convinced she looked ridiculous, but he couldn't disagree more. Her bodice was so tight it created a slight curve at her waist and bust, and her elbow-length sleeves covered her arm muscles, giving her a more womanly shape. The skirt was long, down to her ankles, and she wore a pair of very feminine white flats. One of the girls had given her a pair of pearl earrings whose glimmer awakened the clearest tones of blue in her eyes.

He couldn’t wait to take it all off.

Tyrion hadn't arrived with his cloak yet, but Sansa held Brienne's delicately in her arms. It was made of navy blue silk and the sigil of Tarth was embroidered with silver and copper thread.

The back door opened and Tyrion appeared, wearing a simple suit with a dark red tie. His companion, Shae, walked next to him with a carefree attitude. The girl was short in stature, with black hair and large dark eyes. Unlike Daenerys and Sansa, who wore bronze bridesmaid dresses, she sported a red knee-high dress with quite a revealing cleavage.

His brother approached Brienne with a smile on his face and pulled a velvet box out of his pocket, opened it and placed a piece of jewelry in Dany’s hand.

“It was our mother’s. Would you, please?”

Dany’s expression lightened and she nodded, glancing at Sansa. The redhead moved to stand behind Brienne and the blonde girl blushed furiously as she bent her knees so Sansa could place the cloak around her shoulders, fastening it with the pin. It was a stunning golden lion’s head with ruby eyes. 

In his opinion his fiancée had looked quite elegant right up to the point where she discreetly pulled him by the arm into a corner. "It's too hot in here," she whispered. "I think there's a giant cooking us in an oven."

That was as far as he remembered.

Jaime glanced at Brienne and blinked. "Did you by any chance have some drinks before you headed to the sept?"

Brienne blushed and Margaery stepped in. "We found the source of Brienne's, um… Memory issues. A plate of brownies was delivered to Sansa's room. Which is right next to your _brother’s_ , by the way."

Jaime's eyes flew open. "I had those," he said, memories flashing across his mind. "Sansa's brother gave one to me when I passed by him in one of the hallways."

Jaime had been pale and sweating then, getting his rightful twenty minutes of cold feet before the ceremony. He was loosening his tie and pacing uncontrollably when the red-haired man found him. Robb's mouth was open, about to throw the brownie inside, when he noticed Jaime's expression. "Here," he offered, "you look like you need it a lot more than I do, man."

But Brienne didn't need to hear _that_.

"Okay," Brienne said, "that gives us a bride and groom who were tripping on who knows what. Which was probably meant for Tyrion. Marge and Robb weren't there because it was early. That takes us back to Sansa and Dany."

"We got no word from Robb and Theon yet," Margaery interjected.

"Do you have any news of my brother?" Jaime asked.

Brienne and Margaery exchanged quick, guilty looks that he didn't fail to notice. "What is it?"

"Nothing," they replied at the same time.

"He wasn't at the hotel," Margaery said in a final tone.

Jaime thought there was more to the story, but this was probably not the time to dwell on it. "We have three options, then… Find Sansa and Daenerys, Tyrion and Shae, or the septon."

The girls looked at each other again. They evidently hadn't thought of that idea.

"Do you have his number?" Margaery asked.

"Not really," Brienne responded. "It's a hotel sept in Sunspear, I mean, I'm guessing these fishy septons take turns or have shifts or something similar."

"We could go back to the hotel," Jaime suggested, opening Brienne's car passenger door and getting in. "What else can we do? Plus, I'm ready to change my clothes now." His white shirt had stopped being white when he'd undressed and thrown his clothes on the floor of the drugstore. He was covered in sweat from the heat of his cell, and the rest of his tux was damp and smelled of champagne.

While the girls were still outside, Brienne watched him through the open car window. “Hey, Jaime… Does your suit smell of cigarettes, by any chance?”

It was a puzzling question, but he simply sniffed his jacket and shook his head. “Alcohol, mostly.”

Once more the girls exchanged a look of concern, so quickly he almost failed to register it. Then they walked on as if nothing had happened and got in the car.

When the blonde was turning the key in the ignition, Margaery's message ringtone was heard loudly. Her breath caught in her throat, making the couple turn to look at her in surprise.

"Found Tyrion and Shae," she read out loud. "Oberyn Martell hospital, ER."


	4. 72 - Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 3 (Desert), Chapter 4 (Green) ]  
> Song: The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret by Queens of the Stone Age.

**72  
** (Green)

Dany was keeping Brienne company that Saturday morning after they had breakfast in a little bakery close to her house. They had a lot to catch up on after the silver-haired girl spent three weeks in Pentos establishing some business with a magister who had looked out for her and Viserys for over a year in the past.

Brienne was letting her paint her toenails, reminding her of Sansa. The girls found it fun to play dress-up with her, like a doll, because they thought her hate for girlish rituals too amusing. So between a mani-pedi and nothing at all, they had reached a compromise in just doing her toenails with a bright red that was far too sexy for her to pull off. But she never wore sandals anyway, so no one would notice.

She suspected her friends were permanently doing some kind of test run of details for the wedding, but none of them dared admit it. They had been showing up casually with blow dryers and nail polish and cloth patterns in their purses. She could smell some plan at work, but she was clear that they were not about to back down. Somehow, against all odds – probably some actual literal odds – she was the first to get married, so she was not going to live it down. All she could do was stay on the sidelines.

As the girl finished her work with a proud smile on her face, the bell rang. Brienne walked uncomfortably to the door with Dany’s ridiculous pink toe separators on her feet. The door was half open as she said, “Sansa, I’m so glad you’re here, Dany’s torturing me with this nail–”

The words and any concept of rational thinking left her mind as she stared directly into Jaime’s same green eyes and golden hair, all plastered over one of the most beautiful faces in Westeros. Cersei Lannister was in front of her, in all her splendor, wearing a floral sundress and high leather sandals, with a perfect posture and a look that upon meeting hers became full of disdain.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked her with derision.

Brienne’s heart beat faster, as if she had just met an intimidating opponent on the ring. Her stomach turned and she tried as hard as she could to grasp a basic use of the common tongue. “I live here,” she managed to sputter in a deflated tone.

Cersei frowned. “What are you saying? Where’s Jaime?” She pushed the door open and entered the house, walking with a royal air about her. “Jaime!”

“He’s not here.” Brienne turned to look at her as the green-eyed woman paced, peeking into the kitchen and the living room, where Dany had finally acknowledged her presence. “He’s out,” she insisted.

That was when Cersei finally stopped on her heels and regarded her. Her eyes were glimmering with anger or frustration, Brienne could not decide. She crossed her arms on her chest as she looked her up and down, and a smirk developed on her features. “Jaime would never let you live here. Father would be furious.” She snorted softly when she glanced at Brienne’s big feet wearing the ludicrous nail polish.

She could only sigh and wish for the gods to give her some wit to handle this conversation, but the gods did not give two shits about her. She just stood there in silence, running over her words. “I… well… I do. Live here–” She straightened her back, towering over the slight blonde. “And I told you. He’s not here right now.”

Cersei shifted her eyes, studying her like a big predator watching a particularly juicy fawn. Her amused smirk faded as her astonishing eyes landed on Brienne’s hand, and then she looked up at her face in shock, as if she had just been slapped. “What is that?” She pointed at the ring.

“I… Jaime.” She swallowed. “Jaime asked me…”

It was then that Daenerys arrived at her side to help her with the situation, seeing as she was having some absurd problem at forming words. It was too much pressure. Meeting Cersei for the first time had been harsh, but Jaime had been there to sustain the conversation while she had managed to hold her head high at her insults. But now he was not here, and she knew this woman could be as dangerous as she was contemptuous.

“Jaime asked her to marry her. She said yes,” the silver-haired girl told her. “You came looking for him and he’s not here right now. So it’s time for you to leave.” She held the door open.

The gaze Cersei gave Daenerys was completely different, to the point where it baffled Brienne. Whereas she had regarded the tall girl with an air of superiority about her, the way a lion would look at a fly, her look toward her friend was questioning, as if she was evaluating her. She must know who she was, the Targaryens held control over Kingsland for centuries before the Lannisters took over. After Aerys’ death, Daenerys had become the heiress of the greatest dynasty Westeros had known, and even though she was so young, during her last year she had been learning to handle the power and responsibilities that had befallen her. So if anyone was an equal to her in that room, it was Dany.

This time Cersei looked straight into Brienne’s eyes with a fierceness that could have easily consumed her. “Don’t fool yourself,” she told her with a poisonous smile, “The lion doesn’t mingle with the sheep.”

Daenerys opened the door wider with a cold stare. “The dragon feeds on lions and sheep alike. Leave.”

Cersei left without looking back.

By the time Jaime arrived at noon, Sansa and Margaery had joined them in the living room. Their beauty rituals were over after the awkward episode and Brienne felt defeated. She was extremely grateful that her friend had stepped in for her, but she was also ashamed that she had melted before the woman so meekly. Then again she was not known for her quick wit and the suddenness of it had made her feel ambushed.

When he stepped into the living room to say hello and noticed their long faces, he immediately knew something was wrong. “What happened?”

Brienne sighed loudly. “She was here.” She knew it was not necessary to even say her name. There was only one woman who could generate chaos just by showing up somewhere.

Jaime’s eyes widened, as taken aback as she had been when she had opened the door. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then he frowned. “What did you tell her?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Tell her? What did you _not_ tell her? She ambushed me.”

“The bitch came here looking for you,” Daenerys clarified with an irritated tone. “Then she saw the ring. We didn’t need to tell her anything.”

 Jaime rolled his eyes exasperatedly, running his hand through his blonde locks. “This is bad.”

Brienne’s blood boiled, but she was not about to make a spectacle of herself in front of her friends by entering a bickering match with Jaime. She tried to breathe deeply to push away the frustration, but it was too hard. Was he ashamed of telling her? The woman did not even know they had moved in together.

It was Margaery who asked the question for her, “Why?”

He slumped down on the couch with an air of distress about him. “If she knows, it means my father is going to find out, and soon. That complicates things…” He glanced at her apologetically. “I tried to be as discreet as possible because I didn’t want you to go through some ordeal with my family.”

Margaery rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything. You’re an adult. The least you can do is choose who you want to marry, for the gods’ sakes.”

“She doesn’t think it’s serious,” Brienne said softly. “Maybe she won’t tell.”

Jaime laughed bitterly. “She doesn’t, but she’ll still tell. That’s Cersei for you.” His gaze became hesitant. “I wanted you to choose what you wanted for the wedding. But we’re going to have to keep a very low profile here…”

If anything, that made Brienne happier. She was already dreading having to show up on some newspaper with her huge, ridiculous frame beside a man that looked like he was chiseled out of stone by an artist from the Age of Heroes. Her logical choice would have been to go to the most remote sept in Westeros and get it done in the course of one afternoon. But she thought Sansa might kill herself to hear her say it, so her gaze went to the redhead almost magnetically. A second later everyone else was looking at her as well.

“Oh, no…” Sansa said, a frown appearing in her angelic face, “no, no and no. I will not allow it! You’re not doing it. You’re not a pair of drunken fools!”

Margaery grasped Sansa’s hand sympathetically. “We’ll still have three weddings after Brienne’s, hopefully. You’ll have anything you want then, I swear.”

Sansa shook her head in denial as Jaime opened his mouth to say the words, “We’re eloping in Sunspear.”


	5. 100 - 1:30 PM - Lobster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 5 (Lobster), Chapter 6 (Baseball) ]  
> Song: The Coasters – Down in Mexico  
> Degrees are Celsius.  
> As always, thanks so much for your feedback :)

**100 – 1:30 PM  
** (Lobster)

Had it not been for Brienne's cat-quick speed to step on the breaks, Jaime would have jumped out of the moving car as soon as they drove by the hospital. By the time she and Margaery had parked it and entered, Jaime was nowhere to be found.

"Could you point me to the ER, please?" Margaery asked a male nurse who stood in the reception, taking calls. He gaped at her, nodded and pointed a finger towards a door on their right.

When they opened the door they found several beds and gurneys, some closed by clear blue curtains, others empty. There were all kinds of cases inside, a testament to the wildest city in Westeros, people with severed fingers, passed out, wasted or disoriented and half-naked. Jaime had stopped next to one of the beds.

"I’m going to _kill_ Robb Stark," Jaime was telling his brother with a frown on his face, "Couldn't he have spared two more seconds to say 'he's okay' or 'it's not deathly'?"

Tyrion was sitting on his bed, holding a bucket with a very foul stench of vomit in front of him. He looked as ragged as the rest of them, pale, with dark rings under his eyes. If Brienne had to take a guess, she’d say he was extremely dehydrated. He had an IV hooked to his arm. An amused expression appeared on his face at Jaime’s words.

"While I appreciate having my big brother to protect me, I think you should cut him some slack," the dwarf replied, "He's worried about Sansa. Plus he’s not family, so I’m sure they wouldn’t have given him any more information, let alone through the phone."

"What happened?" Jaime asked finally.

“Some fucking bad lobster.”

Jaime shook his head. “Okay, we’re gonna need a better account of what happened _last night_.”

Tyrion blinked. “How would I know? I should be the one asking you that question.” He seemed dizzy for a second and groaned loudly. “Fucking Dornish lobster.”

Shae appeared then, carrying two cold water bottles in her hands. “Hey,” she greeted them. “You finally showed up.”

“Okay, go back to the beginning, please,” Margaery asked them, “The sept. What happened at the sept?”

“I forgot your cloak,” Tyrion told Jaime. “I was too focused on the rings and the pin for Brienne. So Shae came with me to my room to find it. It was the last I saw of you. When I left, Brienne and Jaime were talking about something and Sansa and Dany were staring at Brienne’s face all teary-eyed. I couldn’t have been gone more than five–” Shae nudged him on the arm. “–fifteen minutes, tops. We still had to wait for Margaery anyway.”

If anything, now they were even more puzzled than before. That only left four of them who might possibly know what happened, two of which were gone (and the sober ones, at that). They were also running out of options. All that was left was the septon, the girls and the hotel security cameras.

“We looked for you for hours,” Tyrion said to his brother. “I found your cell phone in the sept.” He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to him.

Jaime paused. “Ah, it was a time-bomb.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

“The brownies, Tyrion,” Margaery clarified. “They were sent to our room by mistake. Jaime and Brienne were high on that shit all night. Dany and Sansa may have been, too.”

He was confused. “Which brownies?”

Brienne and Margaery looked at each other. “They weren’t yours?” the brunette asked.

“Brownies? Nah, I’m way past that.” He grinned. “That’s for amateurs.”

Jaime looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t get it. Could brownies fuck us up like that? Arent’t they supposed to have a calming effect or something?”

Tyrion shifted his eyes, analyzing the situation in his head. “How long were you like that?”

Brienne replied, “We had them about twenty minutes before the wedding. I woke up at 10 AM. Can’t remember anything after going into the sept.”

Tyrion shook his head. “It wasn’t pot brownies, then. Must’ve been magic ones.”

Brienne’s shock was palpable. “But that’s too strong.”

Margaery interrupted, getting up from her chair. “The question is how and why we got them. We have to figure it out. And we need to find the girls. Do either of you have any idea where Dany and Sansa could be?”

Shae shrugged. “They left with Jaime and Brienne. We don’t know anything else. After we got tired of looking for you we were starving and went to a seafood all-you-can-eat. Then Tyrion got food poisoning and we had to run here.”

“Okay, so, all of us except Margaery and Robb were at the sept,” Jaime summarized, “where we may have been married.” Brienne sighed at that. “Then Tyrion and Shae left. In a fifteen minute timeframe we and the girls went missing.”

“We were early at the sept,” Brienne added. “At least half an hour. That means we must’ve been there at 6:40 and left before 7. We can go back to the hotel and ask for security tapes, and see if we can find the septon.”

“We have to stay here for at least a couple of hours,” Tyrion pointed out. “We’ll catch up with you.”

Five minutes later, they were making their way back to the hotel. Margaery called Robb and asked if they had made any progress finding Sansa, but he replied he was finally done calling drugstores and hospitals and nothing had turned up yet. When they were making a turn at the main avenue before the strip, they heard a loud noise and felt the car stir. Brienne stepped on the break and turned to look at her companions to make sure they were okay.

“What was that?” Jaime asked, getting out and circling the car, checking for dents or loose parts. He groaned in annoyance. “Flat tire.”

“That’s just perfect,” Margaery said from the back seat.

Brienne sighed and popped the trunk, mentally preparing herself to change the tire under the worst of the afternoon sun in the middle of the hottest city she’d ever set foot on. Margaery walked in front of her to lift the trunk lid and then she heard the loudest, most high-pitched shriek coming out of the brunette’s mouth. When the blonde was close enough to see, her face went completely pale and she shut the trunk as hard and fast as she could.

“What is it?” Jaime asked as he approached them, looking alarmed.

“There’s a bunch of fucking vipers in there, that’s what!” Margaery exclaimed, almost breathless.

“Crap,” was all Jaime could manage to say, “We’re in a shitload of trouble.”

The three of them sat on the curb to catch a break, mulling over what they should do next. Brienne took a deep breath. She was looking slightly less pale now, though her cheeks had started reddening from the relentless sun that aimed to melt them. She felt a drop of sweat run down her temple and thought it must be at least thirty-six degrees at the moment.

“We just have to call animal control,” the blonde rationalized. “Then changing the tire will take a few minutes.”

Jaime shook his head. “I’ve been around my father too long not to know what snakes in a car mean in Dorne.”

Margaery’s eyes opened wide. “Them?”

He nodded. “The Sand Snakes.”

–––

It took half an hour for them to get back to the hotel while they waited for the car to be towed. They did not dare open the trunk once more and found it easier to leave it parked while they dug deeper into the situation. The first thing they did was hide in Sansa’s room, locking the door behind them once they made sure there was no one inside.

“Drugs,” Margaery started. “Where there are Sand Snakes, there are drugs. If they left us snakes, it means they think we took them. Or we owe them something. Shit, we really need you to remember this.”

Brienne shook her head. “It’s a blank. Maybe we should check the rooms? Jaime, check your pockets.” He did as he bid her, but there was nothing inside other than a couple of stags, his wallet and his cell phone.

In Sansa’s room they only found her pink suitcase with all her clothes neatly packed. Brienne checked every compartment in the bag to make sure she had not missed anything, but it was no use. Margaery’s search in her own room was futile, and Brienne already knew the honeymoon suite was untouched.

“All that’s left is Tyrion’s room,” the brunette pointed out. “We gotta go there.”

“Okay, so… Jaime… You see, there’s some suspicious stuff in Tyrion’s room.” Brienne averted her eyes. “I mean, surely we didn’t _do_ anything… I mean, he wasn’t here, right…?”

Jaime simply laughed. “My mind may be a blank, but I’m pretty sure I was the one with you in there. I do remember thinking it’d be somewhat fascinating to steal someone’s room instead of going to ours, and Tyrion’s was the closest. Fear or getting discovered and all that.”

Once they went inside using the keycard they requested at the reception, Jaime proved his point by kneeling beside the nightstand and picking up his boxers from the floor. “Case in point, see–”

He fell into a panicked, breathless silence that startled the girls. When they approached to see what happened, he pulled out a black suitcase from under the bed. It was smeared in ketchup, so his left hand was immediately stained as he opened it.

Brienne’s breath caught in her throat when she looked inside. “Seven. Hells.”

Margaery shook her head slowly, a shocked expression invading her features. “There’s at least twenty pounds of blow in there.”


	6. 23 - Baseball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 5 (Lobster), Chapter 6 (Baseball) ]  
> Song: Florence + the Machine – Howl  
> More of this on Monday, thanks for reading! :)

**23  
** (Baseball)

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Brienne huffed, “you can’t seriously believe the Krakens are having a better season than the Direwolves. Cotter Pyke is well past his years as a manager. He blew Qarl the Maid’s contract and now he has no respectable left field. The Greatjon’s career has been flawless so far, he has a natural talent for his picks during the draft.”

Half of what Brienne was saying was incomprehensible to Jaime. The man thought there was nothing duller in the world than baseball. He enjoyed contact sports way too much and he also believed that a game where math was so intrinsically involved was no sport at all. _Give me football or hockey any day of the week_.

“Qarl _the Maid_?” he asked her. “Are you serious?”

Hunt gave an exasperated growl. “He’s famous for his tight grips. Never dropped a ball. Best left fielder in the last five years. You don’t know anything about this, do you?”

“Ask me about any real sport and I might answer whatever you want. But this is just a bunch of fat guys with big legs performing ninety-foot sprints. What’s fun about that?”

Hunt frowned. “It’s the most lucrative sport in Westeros. The damn thing keeps the economy of this city running. Show a little more respect.”

Even Brienne seemed offended by his comment, but she chose that particular time to dip her freckled nose into her yellow pad, writing down some notes as a new batter stepped up.

The Dragonpit was the biggest and most luxurious baseball stadium in the world. It had been built atop Rhaenys’ Hill a century ago, in President Jahaerys’ efforts to bring Kingsland into a new era by assembling a landmark that became a testament to their majestic dynasty after years of being a ruin. It stood proud and flawless with a capacity of fifty thousand spectators; even Jaime found it breathtaking.

Both Brienne and Hunt had season tickets for the Major League Baseball. They had such differing opinions that Garlan Tyrell, the director of the sports section, had deemed it interesting to send them both to cover it and turn in opposing articles. Today was their first day and before Jaime knew it, he had announced to Brienne that he was coming with her as she walked out the door. She had shrugged and put on her Direwolves cap on her way out.

But this was not going so well. He was bored out of his mind and they had stopped serving beer after the sixth inning. The day was as hot as a dragon’s mouth and he had forgotten to take a cap of his own in his rush to stick to her like a leech.

The sound of the bat hitting the ball rang loudly and a second later everyone stood up in a massive cheer, including Brienne, who was directing a satisfied grin at Hunt. “Double play! In your face! Suck it!”

All he did was laugh in response. “Hey, have some respect for the Kingslayer there.”

His eyes turned immediately toward him in a defiant glance. “What did you just say?”

Hunt chuckled and threw his hands in the air. “Hey, your girlfriend’s the one who’s asking me to suck it.”

Brienne sighed loudly and slumped back down on her chair between the two of them, choosing to continue focused on her notes instead of adding more fuel to the fire. All she said was, “Just let it go.”

But Jaime did not listen. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my fiancée.” He threw an arm around her and she rolled her eyes at him with a look of exasperation.

The comment only seemed to amuse him more. “Well, fiancée is not wife. I should know.” He winked at her. _He dares **wink**? And what is he talking about?_

Brienne had turned to look at Hyle immediately at his remark with eyes wide open. She must have made some sort of gesture or mouthed words that Jaime could not see, because Hyle shrugged at her and continued to watch the game unfold.

“What is he saying?” he asked her, starting to grow angry.

“This is not the time or place to–”

“It’s as good a time as any, wench!”

Hyle chortled. “Wench?”

“Hunt!” she yelled at him.

“Brienne,” Jaime growled.

“It’s nothing. My father wanted me to marry him. But he’s an _ass_ ,” she glanced at the brunet as she emphasized it, “So I said no. And that’s the end of it.”

 _Marry him? What in seven hells?_ He felt like an anvil had been dropped on his head. All this time he had been so proud to know that he had been the first one to get through to her, the first one to show an interest and most certainly the first one to propose to the girl. _Just when_ _I think I know her, something new always comes up_.

He was speechless, for once, giving Hyle enough time to add, “You would think you’d know these things. Since she’s your _fiancée_ and everything.”

The only thing that stopped the punch Jaime was itching to throw at him was another hit. The crowd rose once more and the cheers drowned out every other sound. Brienne directed an apologetic look in his direction and held his hand tightly as if to keep him from doing what she knew he wanted to do.

He remembered his right hand was gone, Hunt was also a kickboxer and in such a crowd it would have been ludicrous to start a fistfight like a teenager. So he clenched his teeth and did what he could to restrain himself. There was just one inning left. _Just one more_.

Half an hour later, when they were walking out of the stadium toward the parking lot, Jaime felt a glorious relief upon approaching the man, already savoring the left hook he was about to throw in his self-righteous trap while he chatted with Brienne over the average of this or that player. But as Hunt went to one knee to tie the laces of his shoe, Brienne stepped in front of him.

“Stop,” she told him in a pleading tone, barely above a whisper, “He was just provoking you.”

It took everything he had to clench his hand into a fist, turn around and walk to Brienne’s car stomping his feet and kicking a can of beer that crossed his path. The only reason he had let himself be humiliated by such as Hunt was because of his stupid, useless stump. If he decided to fight him he had little to no chance to win with such a disadvantage, and that would end up being worse, eating the dust like some amateur.

He brooded the entire way home. Brienne worked in her laptop late into the night writing her article to send it to the press. When she entered their bedroom it was one in the morning and he had not been able to fall asleep. He was still frustrated from being unable to put the man in his rightful place, and annoyed that he had caught him off guard with the marriage thing.

As the girl turned on the light of the bathroom, she noticed his eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling with a deep frown. At the moment she said nothing, but then she handed him his kickboxing glove and turned to trade her jeans for a pair of shorts.

“Come.”

–––

One of the many, many perks of living with Jaime was that he understood her passion for boxing. She had walked into his garage one day and found it full of old boxes and the empty space where he used to park his car when he was out of the city. She had suggested that they set up a room where they could spar, so they could stay out of their new martial arts gym, where he was uncomfortable training unless they went very late at night, when it was almost deserted.

So they had worked for a couple of weeks in their spare time, when she could take a day off at the paper if there was nothing to cover and he could escape his father’s claws at Lannister & Co. The project had been interesting, to say the least. Brienne had hated shopping every single day of her life, but when they entered the biggest sports store in Westeros to supply their little gym, she felt like she was in heaven. They got to pick a sandbag, a treadmill, a speed bag, a set of weights and a brand-new bench, and Jaime had insisted on adding a state-of-the-art pair of speakers to the mix so they could train with music in the background.

It was the most delightful domestic task she had experienced so far while living with him. They had painted the room, covered the floor with horse stall mats and added a huge lamp on the ceiling. It was her very favorite spot in the house.

He had reluctantly accepted to come with her, but he had not caught her intentions. She was sure the only reason he followed her was because he was not about to sleep anytime soon.

“I know you’re angry. And you have every right to be.”

He grumbled something unintelligible.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the thing with Hunt… To me it just seems trivial. His father and mine go way back, so the summer before I went to college he was sent to our house for two months. He got into my father’s good graces and tried to get into mine, but I knew him better than that by then.” She looked into his eyes. “He doesn’t even care. He’s an ambitious man who wants to inherit our little island. Even though it’s not a luxurious piece of land, it would better his position. It’s Tarth he’s always wanted.” She could see a part of the rage drop from his eyes. “But I know your pride is eating you up. And I know it sucks that you can’t fight him, but you can fight me.” He looked up at the suggestion and she continued, “Fight me like I’m Hunt.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

Her response was pushing him lightly enough not to hurt him. She spoke in a grave voice, “I’m the biggest ass in the world and I’m messing with your girlfriend.” She pushed him further with more strength. “I wanted to marry her!”

Jaime rolled his eyes, getting visibly upset at her shoves and words.

She pushed harder, making him step back slightly. “Engaged is not married!”

Then Jaime bit his lip as he smirked with an irritated look and turned to face her with a speed she had not seen in him since the accident. He took in a deep breath and threw a left hook in her direction. She blocked it and tried to dig her elbow in his stomach, but he dodged and went for a kick to her hip. She parried the kick and threw back a cross that he deftly blocked with his right arm.

When they began training after he was better, she had sparred with her left arm wrapped behind her back, telling him that aside from making things fair it would also help her develop new skills with her underused side. But as the months passed and he picked up a better pace, they removed the advantage so he could teach his right arm to become a defensive weapon.

Jaime managed to land a jab on her left shoulder and as she fell back, she used the opportunity of regaining her balance to go for a high kick. He dodged and kicked her legs from under her, and as soon as she fell down she rolled to the side, avoiding him when he approached her for a grip. The time she took to get back up was costly; Jaime landed a left hook on her cheek and she was seconds away from taking a knee to the stomach, had it not been for her instinct to block it with her own knee. She was starting to feel the punch on her cheek when Jaime came at her with a fierce strength, undoubtedly remembering Hyle’s snide remarks.

 _Good_ , she thought, _better fight me than him and end up in the emergency room._

His speed became almost too much for her, all she could stand to do was block his advances and move back, step by step, without any possible time or space to land a blow of her own. A high kick, a mid-kick, she blocked one and the other, a roundhouse kick that threw her back a few feet. Once she regained her balance she went for an uppercut, and as he dodged she finally landed a kick to his hip. He fell to the side and then looked up, anger flashing in his green eyes. He charged against her, growling, with such strength that he knocked her to the floor. She was lying sideways, trying to adjust to her surroundings, when he grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, crossing one of his legs over her hip to keep her down.

“Yield!” he snarled. She felt drops of sweat from his neck dropping down on her arm as he gripped her tightly. “Nowhere to go, wench.”

She stirred, trying to fight against the weight of his thighs, but she did not have a wide range of motion about her. He was against her back and her arm was writhing in pain. She tried to kick him back to no avail; it only made him toughen his hold.

Her heart started pounding against her chest with a fury and she felt herself grow moist at the feeling of being overpowered by him, especially with a disadvantage. This was the first time since the accident that he had beaten her fair and square in combat. She could not understand why, but it woke a feeling of compliance in her that she had not experienced before.

“No,” she told him, for some reason seeking to instigate his wrath further, “I won’t.”

In one quick, rough motion he turned her until she was lying on her back and straddled her, holding both her hands above her head with his and keeping pressure on them with his right arm. His face loomed inches above hers. She could see little drops of sweat adorning his nose, green orbs glimmering under a deep frown. Brienne might have given him a run for his money if she had tried to fight his arms with hers, but she was paralyzed with astonishment. She involuntarily tightened her thighs beneath him and saw his expression shift.

“Do you think of him?” he asked, his voice a coarse growl, “In your life, in your bed?”

She lifted her head slightly, bringing her lips closer to his mouth. “I think of you.”

He pinned her hands more tightly against the floor, locking her in a firm grip that she could not have stirred from if she had wanted to. “Where?”

She let out a sigh that came out half a moan. “In bed.”

His head sank down to her shoulder, biting it and running his teeth along her collarbone, making her breath catch in her throat. “How?” he whispered.

She could feel her cheeks flushing, the rising temperature in her body, the sweat dripping down her torso from the fight and from her anticipation. “Inside me.”

“What do you want me to do about it, Brienne?”

“Do it.”

The tip of his tongue brushed against her jaw. “Do what?”

The words flowed out of her like a torrent, so atypical in her, so lascivious, leaving her inhibition behind, swallowed by an urge greater than her virtue. “Fuck me,” she whispered in his ear, unbelieving of her boldness.

He shifted his legs, moving his right knee between hers, spreading her thighs. His leg slipped to the side, working its way under her own and raising her hips in the air. He pushed his crotch against her and she could feel how hard he was, aching for her. He moved his hand for only a moment as he lifted her tank top and revealed her small, erect nipples, and she took the opportunity to do the same, taking off his shirt in one swift motion. He took one of her buds into his mouth, sucking on it, making her groan under her breath and rub her hips against his, almost crying out for contact.

Jaime bit down on it softly and held her hands over her arms once more, immobilizing her. He looked into her eyes with an air of defiance about him, like a predator subjugating his mate. “He will never want you like this.” He pressed his cock against her underwear, taunting her. “He will never fuck you like this.”

Brienne spread her legs and he let go of her hands, seemingly done with his grip, but when she tried to move he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up to her feet. As he pressed her further back she felt the wall behind her. His hand went down to one of her buttocks, pushing down her shorts and underwear and letting them fall to her ankles, everything happening so fast that a second later he was naked. Using the wall as support, he lifted her enough to enter her with fervor. A moan instantly came out of her lips and she dug her tongue inside his mouth, seeking his. He bit her lip and kissed her with a ferocity that could have made her come right then.

He thrust into her sharply, urgently, and she responded by pressing her hips down against him in a quick rhythm. His lips wandered to her ear and he whispered, “He will never have you. You belong to me.”

All she managed to do between pants was nod her agreement. A loud groan came out of her as he shifted and shoved himself against her most sensitive spot, driving her to the edge. “He will…” she panted, “never… have… me…”

He ran his thumb against her nipple, using his right arm to hold her still. “Why, wench?” His motion became slower and slower as he saw her close to finishing, until he was barely moving inside her. Her walls clenched around him, begging for more.

“Jaime,” she whispered, “Don’t… don’t stop…”

“Tell me why.” His gaze was unyielding, demanding.

“Because I belong…” she pressed her hips against his as hard as she could, pleading for release. “To you…”

“Damn right,” he said into her ear, nibbling it, and once more thrusting into her, speeding up progressively. “You’re mine to fuck.” He pulled her further up. Drops of sweat ran down his forehead. His words were making her head spin with a foreign sensation of wicked ecstasy. “You’re mine to have.” His rhythm became once more rough and eager, groans escaping his mouth. He looked straight into her eyes, a glimpse of his real self emerging underneath the visceral rage. “You’re mine to love.”

She nodded and pressed her forehead against his as she felt her knees grow completely weak and her walls grasp him tightly, leading her into a long, paralyzing bliss. He kept going for a few more seconds, while she was barely conscious, then she felt him stop and a wetness invade her, but he did not pull out. He wiped a strand of soaking wet hair from the side of her face and pressed his lips against hers; she could taste the salt of his sweat in his kisses. After a long gaze into her blue eyes he finally withdrew, leaving a void inside her.

Brienne knew that now that it was over would be the perfect time to feel embarrassed from her boldness, but she did not. She felt exhilarated, conquered, and thought back to the days in Tarth when she swore to herself that she would never marry a man who could not beat her in a fight, the dreams and hopes of a young girl who thought they would never come true. She took off her gloves, still panting, and glimpsed her engagement ring. _I forgot to take it off_.

Jaime did not fail to notice her gaze as he gathered their clothes from the floor. Exhaustion clouded his features and all of the anger from before was gone. He smiled at her in complicity, like they were children who had just successfully pulled off an elaborate mischief.

She thought of Hunt and a grin spread on her face in spite of herself. Whatever he had been trying to achieve by taunting Jaime during the game had backfired, and quite monumentally at that. _I hope he does it again_ , she thought, _that should be interesting…_


	7. 100 - 3:00 PM - Bathroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 7 (Bathroom), Chapter 8 (Housewarming) ]  
> Song: Jefferson Airplane – White Rabbit
> 
> Thank you so much for your positive reception towards Baseball! Ever since I wrote it I was slightly reluctant because it was the type of thing to either work very well or not at all, but I’m so glad you enjoyed it :) I don’t know why, but writing J/B smut is way too much fun.

**100 – 3:00 PM  
** (Bathroom)

Brienne ran as quickly as her legs allowed her down the corridor of their hotel floor. She pressed the elevator once, twice, thrice, with a desperation that seeped out of her. Jaime appeared seconds later, dashing out of Tyrion’s room with one shoe on and the other in his hand, having decided to trade his formal pair for some sneakers. He caught up to her as the elevator doors opened and pushed the button for the lobby in one swift motion.

He got down on one knee to put on his other shoe, getting frustrated as he attempted to tie his laces with one hand. Brienne knew it was one of the hardest tasks for him to manage, so she knelt down next to him and gently tied it for him, focusing all her energy in calming down so she might be able to think straight. Jaime placed his hand over hers once she was done and whispered, “We’ll figure it out.”

She looked into his green eyes, finding the reassurance she was sorely lacking at the moment. Her only response was a nod, and as the hallway appeared before them, they rushed out and made their way to the sept.

It was very small, but it gave off a vibe of intimacy and warmth. There was an altar for each of the gods, carved in weirwood. The Mother and the Father had the most candles and the Stranger was positioned at the opposite side, so it would be at their backs during the ceremony. There were colored tinted glass windows on the main altar where the vows were said and the marriage was sealed. The flowers Sansa and Margaery had arranged the previous night were still decorating the long oak benches, white tulips wrapped in bronze ribbons.

The septon was nowhere to be seen. They knocked on the door of a room at the back, but received no response. All they could do was inspect every seat and every inch of the floor in case they’d dropped something that might point them in the right direction.

Brienne was making a last round of the place when she noticed a small wooden door next to the Stranger’s altar, and opened it to find a closet for the septons to hang their robes, but that was not what she found inside.

“Jaime,” she whispered, pulling out a navy cloak embroidered with the sigil of her house.

Jaime’s cloak was hanging beside it, one of the most beautiful pieces of clothing she had seen in her life. It was dark red, with a regal lion sewn in gold thread. The eyes of the lion were rubies, matching the pin Tyrion had brought for her.

Brienne felt a tug on her chest when she inspected her cloak with more detail; the golden lion was still pinned to it. She looked at Jaime’s eyes feeling disillusioned. “We didn’t get married.”

He remained silent for seconds, taking turns between looking at her hands and her eyes. Then he pulled her closer by the waist. “I still very much want you to be my wife,” he whispered, placing his forehead against hers.

She blushed slightly and nodded, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. 

“Guys!” Margaery’s voice came from the hallway, taking them out of the momentary lapse in their mission. “Did you find him?” She went inside and found them, cloaks in hand. Brienne directed a sad smile toward her, showing her the pin on her cloak.

The girl gave her a nod of understanding and said, “You two are not leaving here until you’ve gotten married, I swear. We can’t be suffering the heat in this fucking city for nothing.”

–––

Margaery told them what she had found in the security videos – confirmation that they left the hotel during the minutes Tyrion was gone. Both Jaime and Brienne were agitated, talking about something with a lot of excitement; Sansa had been running after them as they rushed out, and soon a loud honk on the street was heard. The least they had probably done in their state was walk into traffic without warning. Nothing happened, though, because Dany covered her face with her hand exasperatedly before following.

So all four of them had left together. Neither Sansa nor Dany were acting out of the ordinary, meaning that they had steered clear of the nefarious brownies. _Where would we go?_ Brienne asked herself.

They sat at the restaurant, trying to think of a new plan. Robb had arrived only minutes before and met them, but he had no new information. He had given up on his search for Theon, knowing that he had a tendency to become self-centered when involved with anonymous women. They hadn’t spoken in minutes, having no clue as to how they should proceed. They had informed them that the septon would be arriving that night, but since they had left before their appointed time, there was hardly any chance the man had even met them.

They had found both the girls’ cell phones in Sansa’s room, their batteries dead; they never took them to the sept so they wouldn’t interrupt the ceremony, so contacting them that way was a dead end. They took the time to recharge the batteries and keep them close in case they rang. Brienne was fumbling with Sansa’s, staring at the picture of both of them with their tongues stuck out while they got her ready hours before. _Where are you, Sansa?_

–––

As the sun began to set, Robb and Margaery decided to go back out to the street to resume the hands-on search. He was far too restless and couldn’t stand to sit around while her sister was missing.

Tyrion and Shae had come and gone by then on a different quest. Tyrion had developed certain connections with Oberyn Martell and his concubine, Ellaria, before the man had died under suspicious circumstances while doing business in Kingsland. He thought the drug situation needed to be solved as soon as possible – it might be closely linked to Sansa and Daenerys missing, so he decided to pay Ellaria a visit and see if he could squeeze any information out of the still grieving young woman.

Brienne and Jaime were frustrated to the point of madness, knowing that they were the only ones who actually had the information stored somewhere in their brains. They had paced around every room trying to summon an image, a smell, a flashback, but so far not much had come to them. All they had managed to recall was having barbecue at some point in the night, explaining the smell of smoke in their clothes.

“We should try backtracking,” Jaime suggested. “Try to remember the last thing we did.”

They headed back to Tyrion’s room to find an answer and were met with the same chaos they had left in the afternoon. Margaery had hung the 'Do not disturb' sign before she left to protect the valuable suitcase that was still hidden under the bed.

“We know we were here, though I don’t know if we left after whatever we did,” the girl told him. “I think it would make sense if the hotel was our last stop. I _did_ wake up here.”

Jaime bit his lower lip. “We must’ve been stuffed with that barbecue, so I’m pretty sure we didn’t order anything to eat,” he pointed out, approaching the bed and inspecting the empty bottles of wine on the floor. “But we drank. A lot.” He picked up a damp, blurry receipt from under one of the bottles and handed it to her.

“5 AM,” she read, frowning slightly as she forced her mind to lead her back through the morning. “I feel positive that I didn’t leave after that… And the cops said they took you in at 6:30. It fits.”

Brienne made her way to the bathroom and noticed their toiletries were spread all over the sink top. Her toilet bag was open on the floor, with all her things scrambled inside. “Jaime!” she exclaimed.

When he noticed the disarrayed products, his eyes opened wide. “Condoms!” he screamed.

“Oh, man.” Brienne covered her face with her hand as bits and pieces finally appeared in her mind.

“We didn’t bring any,” he remembered, “and you told me you were sure if I didn’t wear one, a garden was going to grow inside you and the weeds were going to choke us in our sleep.”

“That’s creepy,” the girl said, “Responsible, but extremely creepy.”

Jaime continued, “I was naked because it was too hot.” He walked over to the bedside table and picked up a cigarette butt from an ashtray. “And I said I’d be damned if I didn’t smoke a cigarette after our bedding.”

“But you did start smoking.” She pointed at her dress, spread out on the bed. “My dress reeks of it. So did we do it or not?”

“Well, I remember making out.” He grinned. “For a long, long time. And I did take off your garter with my teeth. Then I started sucking on your…”

They both looked towards the sheets.

“Ring-Pop,” they said at the same time.

“It was the buttons that did for me,” he continued, inspecting the back of her dress. Three of the pearl buttons were missing and Brienne had opened the rest when she changed in the morning, with a lot of difficulty. “I think that’s when I decided I’d get the condoms at the drugstore while you found someone to open the stupid buttons. We were too drunk.”

“I went to Sansa’s room!” she realized. “I was feeling hot, too… I think the wine made the effect of the brownies even worse. Sansa wasn’t there and I thought I should take a dip in the pool…”

“Well, that’s two mysteries solved. It wasn’t a pool, it was her bathtub. Did you even manage to open the faucet?”

She shook her head. “They weren’t faucets. They were fire hydrants, I would’ve needed a wrench.”

“Right, ‘cause you were burning up.”

She laughed under her breath. “See, I’m glad you understand.”

They sat next to each other on the bed, staring ahead at the empty bathroom.

“So where does that leave the girls?” he asked her.

Once more they fell silent, trying to recall any image between them leaving the hotel and ending up right back there in the morning.

“Where could we have that barbecue?” she wondered, “I have this feeling that we weren’t at a restaurant. For my dress to smell of smoke we would’ve had to be right next to the grill. Who lives in Dorne that we know? Someone who could invite us over…”

Jaime frowned. “We know Arys Oakheart. His girlfriend is from Dorne, isn’t she? But I don’t know her name.”

Brienne gasped in surprise. “Martell!” she exclaimed. “Like that guy who died. The one whose girlfriend Tyrion went to see?”

Jaime stood up in a hurry, grabbing his cell phone from the dresser. His thumb swung up and down quickly, going down a list of his contacts until he reached the letter O. He was thankful the man had been his sparring partner for a while and he hadn’t lost his number.

He picked up immediately.

“Jaime. Fuck, man. You need to get here _now_. They’re going to kill you both.”


	8. 114 - Housewarming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 7 (Bathroom), Chapter 8 (Housewarming) ]  
> Song: One of my favorites for this fic! The Man Who Sold the World by David Bowie.
> 
> As always, feedback is very appreciated and loved!

**114  
** (Housewarming)

Sansa needed no excuses to plan a good party, or so was Brienne’s conclusion when she saw how the living room looked after the redhead spent the afternoon setting up a gathering that turned out to be quite a hybrid: housewarming (they had never really had one when she moved in), bridal shower (whatever that was) and some kind of post-eloping celebration.

The blonde had not even complained; her hours at the paper were so busy that she had barely even seen Margaery in spite of working on the same floor. Their lunches had been further and further apart and then the brunette had spent a week in Highgarden, settling some contracts in her father’s name. Daenerys had been occupied as well after meeting her new advisor, Jorah Mormont, sent by the magister she had stayed with across the Narrow Sea. With only a few months to go before her graduation, sporting a degree in Political Science, the girl was ready to take the reins of her inheritance and start managing her affairs personally.

So Brienne had been happy to spend time with her friends. Sansa had decorated the living room with a few purple balloons and napkins here and there, and set up a table for the appetizers, which she had fortunately agreed to delegate to Dany, who has more easygoing with such tasks. Tyrion had brought them a case of wine and two cases of beer.

By the time Sansa finished putting some light makeup on her – in spite of her protests – and helping her pick out an outfit, grey slacks and a white linen halter top tied on the back of her neck with black flats, the guests were already being entertained by Jaime. There was some soft rock in the background and the sound of Dany’s easy laughter filled the room, followed by Tyrion saying, “Oh, you don’t believe me?” and then more laughter.

She found Jaime sitting on the couch with them, also enjoying the company. He threw a complicit glance in her direction and an approving nod at her appearance, but continued talking to her friends. She headed for the dining room with Sansa, finding Margaery chatting with Robb in a hallway, with a love-struck smile on her lips.

Sansa’s brother and his friend Theon had come to Kingsland with a group of their acquaintances from Winterfell to take a few courses on the management of franchises. They had all gone to college together and realized their work dynamics were good, and with an investment from Sansa’s father, they were planning to open a chain called The King in the North, which she suspected sought to be the competition of Burger King.

The doorbell rang and behind the door she found Pod, who was now her assistant, and Hunt beside him. _What’s **he** doing here?_ was her first thought, but she discarded it, considering it inappropriate for a hostess (curse Sansa for fiddling around her brain). “Welcome,” she told them simply.

Pod blushed. “Hi, ma’am… I mean… miss… Mrs. Brienne. Congratulations on your wedding,” he stammered, handing her a clumsily wrapped box that turned out to be a pair of His and Hers mugs, one with the logo of the Direwolves, her favorite baseball team, and one with the lion of the Lannisport Felines. She found them endearing, truth be told, the boy was so shy it impressed her that he had gone through the trouble.

“Thanks so much, Pod, this is a great present.”

They stepped in and settled in the dining room. Soon enough Hyle was talking to a friend of Robb’s called Jeyne Poole, who seemed quite impressed with his stories. Theon was not looking very happy about it across the room. Brienne chose to sit by Sansa to continue listening to her tales about her new job alongside Renly and Loras in the fashion industry as a designer. Due to the new connection between them and the redhead, both she and Brienne had managed to get over their embarrassment at their lack of observation to realize they were both _very_ gay, and Renly had even apologized to Brienne for his earlier prejudice toward her. He was apparently much more laid-back now that they were proudly out of the closet. Both men arrived shortly afterwards and joined them, telling all kinds of funny horror stories about the demands of Olenna, who had been the one to finance their new business, The Rainbow Guard, and expected nothing short of perfection from her grandson.

She stood to pour herself another glass of wine and stumbled as Hyle walked out of the kitchen with a pair of beers at hand. “Watch it,” she told him.

He replied with a huge grin, “Sorry, Mrs. Lannister. I’m afraid I’m baffled by your beauty.” She let the ornamented insult slide, as she always did. “Now that you’re a married woman, I find you even more interesting.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you do. Just like you found Tarth interesting.” She went on her way, but then stopped. “You should aim for a different target, you know, Robb’s friend is very taken with her.”

Hunt laughed, standing on the doorway. “Oh, are you jealous? I have enough for everyone.”

Slightly disgusted by the comment, she walked into the kitchen and felt her heart jump when she found none other than her father standing inside with a big smile on his lips and his suitcases resting on the floor. “My dear Brienne,” he told her, wrapping her in a tight hug. He smelled of salty winds and freshly cut grass. He smelled of home. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Her shock was palpable. She turned to find Hunt still standing behind her, eyes shining with an amused expression. “Pod got you a gift, so I couldn’t fall behind. How do you like mine?”

Nothing came out of her mouth. The first thing she thought about was her hand, her wedding and engagement rings on her finger. She had not even told her father of her marriage, it made her feel like a bad daughter to speak of something so important on the phone, especially after having the affront to elope in Dorne, but now that he was here she wondered if it was even worse that she had not told him at all.

“Dad, I…”

He pulled her into a stool and sat beside her. Hunt left to give them some privacy. In spite of everything, his eyes were glimmering. “Tell me everything.”

She spoke for minutes, non-stop. No one walked into the kitchen to interrupt them as she strung the words together to explain how she had gotten to know Jaime, how she had understood how different he was from the concept everyone had of the Lannisters. How he had been kind to her, how they fought together until his accident. Then she had told him, stumbling on the words, about his proposal, about her saying yes, about having to run off to keep it hidden from his father. He had seemed disappointed at that.

“I know he’s a Lannister,” she said finally. “I know what you must think…”

He ran a hand through her hair. “All I need to think about is your happiness and nothing else. Are you happy?” He could read her soul in her eyes. It was what she loved most about him; he had always understood her and let her be, in spite of how unconventional she was. “Do you love him?”

A smile escaped her lips and she nodded.

“Then nothing else matters.” He stood from the chair and finished the drink she had poured him, some chamomile tea. “Now, will I get to meet him?”

She felt like a fool. In all her haste to explain the situation, she had forgotten about the party, about their guests, about Jaime being there. She got up suddenly and replied, “Of course you will. Would you like to freshen up? I’m sure you must be tired from the trip.”

“I’m not yet so old.” He smiled broadly. “I’m fine. I’ll wait here.”

She hurried toward the living room, where she had last seen him. He was not there anymore. A quick look at the main entrance and the dining room told her he was missing. She passed by Pod and without a single word substituted the beer in his hand with a soda she had grabbed for her father, shooting a disapproving glance toward Hunt. When she headed for the dining room to recheck, she met her husband’s face.

Jaime was completely pale, as if he had just seen a ghost. A wave of concern washed over her and a bad feeling bubbled in her stomach.

“What’s going on?” she asked him worriedly, still with Pod’s beer in her hand.

He took the beer and chugged it down in a few gulps. “My father is here.”

Brienne’s shock was palpable. “Your father is here? _My_ father is here!”

–––

Jaime’s eyes opened wide. “How could he possibly know…?”

He fell silent. There was only one person at the party who knew Selwyn Tarth and would invite him without asking for Brienne’s permission. He turned to look at Hyle Hunt, who raised his beer in the air toward him with a wide grin on his face. Now more than ever the man deserved a black eye for his trouble, but this was most certainly not the right moment. Too much was happening too fast.

“Why is he here? Was it _her_?”

He nodded. “She must have been waiting for the most dramatic moment to tell him.”

“But Jaime… We’re already married.”

Jaime frowned. “My father has been kind enough to remind me how quickly he can make a document disappear, the gods be damned. ‘Paper shield’, Cersei used to call it.”

Brienne looked deflated, visibly disappointed by how little their efforts to see the wedding to completion appeared to matter. She sighed and looked into his eyes with a lost expression, as if she was waiting for him to tell her what to do. He was not quite sure himself.

Jaime felt his stomach turn at the idea of meeting his father-in-law in such conditions, and for once he understood that in spite of how unfamiliar the feeling was to him, he was anxious to make a good impression on him. ‘A Lannister,’ he must have thought, ‘a Lannister has married my daughter’. Or maybe he would welcome it, knowing that her needs would be covered. What would he think? Jaime drew a blank. It started to feel like pressure, an uncomfortable new outfit for him to wear – the outfit of projecting his best self in order to be well liked, but it tasted bitter in his mouth. Was this the way Brienne felt every day with his family?

Tyrion approached him, trying to speak as quietly as he could so as not to raise eyes in the party. “He wants to see you both. In private.” His brother gazed apologetically at Brienne. “He asks your father’s presence as well. I’m sorry.”

Jaime felt his blood stir. His phantom fingers ached to throw a punch, to hit whatever was closest, particularly Hunt. He could not believe how fast their plans were being pulled apart, like a raging feline was unrolling a tightly knotted skein of yarn with its claws for mere sport.

He knew this would happen, deep inside, as soon as his father got home from his long stay at Casterly Rock. He must have found out the day after the wedding, but said nothing, letting the tension bubble beneath the surface, unspeaking, until he showed up in all his magnificence at the worst moment, informed by Cersei of their little gathering. He did not even want to know how she found out about it.

“We don’t have to,” he told her. He could easily read the anxiety clouding her face.

She shook her head. “There’s nowhere to run. They’re both here. We knew your father would not be pleased about this. We should have thought this through.”

“Do you regret it?” he asked her softly.

“No.”

He took a deep breath and held her hand. Her fingers were shaking and her hand was as sweaty as his own. The guests around him were too entertained to notice their distress, which he was thankful for. He gazed at his brother and did not need to utter any words for him to understand that he needed the celebration to continue as if nothing was happening.

The small inside patio was the only area devoid of guests. There was an elegant six-place black rattan table in the middle, with small candles and a vase full of sunflowers. There were beige cushions on the chairs, and there was good illumination coming from two tall lamps on the sides. Brienne and her friends had given a touch of life to the area by hanging strings of yellow lights, making the place seem warmer.

His father sat at the head of the table. It was a move of dominance right from the start, disregarding his authority as host and diminishing him in the eyes of their companions. His stare was cold and calculating. Jaime poured the wine his father had brought on four glasses, one of Tywin’s personal vintages from the Arbor, some twisted version of a wedding present. As he finished, Brienne appeared at the door, gesturing her father outside.

Mr. Selwyn Tarth was a man in his fifties, with a strong complexion and a well-trimmed grey beard on his face. He stood upright and proud, wearing a formal beige suit that contrasted with his father’s black one. In spite of having just stepped out of a plane, his hair was well combed and his features were relaxed and undisturbed. Brienne had stolen his eyes, as bright blue as hers. _Kind eyes_ , he lamented. _My father will destroy him_.

Selwyn regarded him with a smile, his eyes never wandering to his stump. At once he offered his left hand in a firm, jovial shake. “I’m pleased to meet you at last,” he told him, “and to welcome you to our family.”

Jaime was appreciative of the gesture. His stump hung limply at his side, useless, unmoving. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Tarth.”

Tywin did not rise from his seat when shaking Selwyn’s hand, his gaze unfailing. “Mr. Tarth,” was all he said.

Brienne merely nodded toward his father to regard him, the words apparently caught in her throat. He could not blame the girl. Their last meeting had been less than pleasant and the situation at hand was startling enough as it was without her taking the risk of saying the wrong thing. He knew she would rather swallow her tongue.

Once they all sat, his father’s commanding, measured voice was heard, “It seems we have reached an impasse, Mr. Tarth.” He gently shook the glass of wine in his hand, taking the time to smell the vintage before drawing it to his lips and taking a sip. “My son has gone off and married your daughter. Surely you can understand how this is inconvenient to my family.”

Selwyn stood as proud as Brienne, though the girl averted her gaze, once more being spoken of as if she were not present. _Your daughter is not good enough_ , were the words beneath the words, _this marriage will not serve_.

The man’s only response was a smile, holding the glass between two of his fingers on the table with elegance. “Why, I beg to differ, Mr. Lannister,” he replied without pretense. “You see, I am quite invested in my daughter’s happiness.”

A smirk crept into Tywin’s face like a shadow spreading from a corner, engulfing all the light around it into its depths. “I’m certain a man like you realizes that happiness is not enough to hold up a union of this magnitude.”

Selwyn smiled. To Jaime’s surprise, there was an air of satisfaction on his expression. He gazed at Brienne, who looked at him like a child who had just been reprimanded. He felt much the same himself, sitting there while their elders discussed the entirety of their futures.

“Different people have different perspectives of what is important,” the older man replied. “I, for one, consider it important for Brienne to be well taken care of, and above all, respected. I have kept her under my protection, but a man can only live so long. Seems to me like your son placed his cloak around her shoulders willingly enough, in the light of the Seven, no less.”

Tywin eyes glimmered with shrewdness. “At times like these religion is merely a ritual. All that matters is a signature. And you will find mine to be of weight.”

Jaime looked away, wanting to say something, anything, but the men were leading the conversation into a direction he could not quite grasp. Brienne was sweating and biting her lip. He tried to get her attention, get her to meet his eyes, but she would not.

Selwyn sat back comfortably on his chair, releasing his grip on the glass. “As it happens, so is mine, Mr. Lannister.” He set his elbows on the table, crossing his fingers in front of him. “I would like to understand why my daughter felt the need to run off to Dorne to marry the man she loves. I would have certainly liked her to come home and celebrate with me, in the very cliff where her mother married me a lifetime ago.”

The blond wanted to kick himself. They had believed their plan to be solid, but getting things in paper was barely the formal aspect of it. Like Tyrion always said, one day he was going to get screwed by his impulsiveness. More likely than not his father was ready to threaten the man, tell him to pack up his things and take his daughter back to Tarth. But Jaime was not about to let Tywin shatter him the way he had too many times before. He thought of what he should say, how to intervene, but before anything came out of his mouth, his father was speaking once more.

“My son has been taught to see the value of property. He knew the only way to make a bad investment was to do it far enough from me. But there are always alternatives out of a faulty contract.”

His left hand turned into a tight fist and he was ready to stand up and scream at his father, but Brienne kicked his shin under the table and shook her head. Her eyes were almost regretful. He wondered if she was already sorry for marrying him and getting herself into this mess.

“If there is one thing I have learned through the years is that life is too short to spare any joy that may be found.” Selwyn finally brought the wine to his lips, drinking slowly. “I would see my daughter enjoy hers. I would see grandsons and granddaughters running on the fields of Tarth, heirs who will stand to inherit my land.”

Tywin scoffed. “The future of your family tree does not concern the lion, sir.”

“Oh, but it does.” Selwyn’s eyes glimmered. His wife stirred with impatience. Jaime could see she hated these games as much as he did. “Brienne has made a choice. I would see it honored. Casterly Rock has gold and riches. Lannister & Co. holds stock and many men’s consciences. There is something you still lack.”

Tywin’s eyes shifted at his words, calculating, as if he could inspect the man’s intents from his gestures. Jaime could see that outside of his façade, his interest was piqued, something he had seen few enough times in his life. “An urban legend as far as I am concerned.”

Brienne pursed her lips, anger flaring in her eyes. He could feel powerlessness coming from her, as if she was desperate to speak. She looked at Selwyn, shaking her head lightly. “Please don’t,” he saw her mouthing at her father, but he continued.

“It is real enough, I assure you. Men have made a legend out of it from my reticence. I would not spoil my family’s land but for a worthy cause.”

_What is he saying?_

Tywin’s mouth spread in a satisfied smirk.

“There is no cause worthier for me than Brienne. There will be conditions, surely, and you will see that my signature carries quite some weight as well. But you will have your part. The last piece missing from your empire.”

Brienne’s eyes were clouded with tears. Tears he knew would never fall in front of them. He racked his brain trying to see what was being sold, what was being bought. He could not come up with anything his father did not own or have a hand on. _Unless…_

“Black gold,” Tywin said softly, and Selwyn nodded without another word.

–––

When the last of the guests had left, Brienne heard Jaime’s step downstairs, picking things up and turning lights off in his wake. After her father left to stay in a hotel so he would be more comfortable, all she had wanted to do was to curl up in her bed and hide from the world.

“We grow old and die,” her father had told her when she was just a girl, as they stared into her beloved sea, smelling the salt in the air, filling her lungs with life. “But the land lives on. This will be yours one day, and then it will belong to your children. Men would have us sell this in exchange for a fortune. But the land would die, Brienne. The beauty of Tarth would be tainted with the machines, the refineries and drills. Half the reefs would perish. There would be no more fishing.” He had put his arm around her shoulder. At her twelve years of age she was already of a height with him. “Money gives you things, but our little island is priceless. Memories are worth so much more. The memories your children will have one day, right here.”

She could not even bring herself to imagine having children that would be descendants of Tywin Lannister. Tywin and his ambition and his need to own everyone and everything, the way he had so subtly dug his claws into her home, into her sapphire waters. Her father would fight to make the contract as fair as possible, to keep Evenfall Hall, their estate, untouched. He might get half the island if he fought hard enough, but the other half would be a ruin of metal, an industry, a disease eating at her green fields and her bluebirds and her palm trees, where she would carelessly climb and hang from when she was a child.

She felt a deep void inside her. Brienne had grown detached to so many things as she grew older, always shielding herself from the pain of being a constant target, always looking for comfort in her books and music and dreams. But her home was such a big part of her that she could not bear to watch it slip away.

She thought of Jaime, of their hasty wedding, of the feeling that marrying him had been the greatest rush of her life, ready to move to the next stage. But it left a bitter taste in her mouth. _Is this the price to pay for a little happiness?_  

Jaime walked into their room and sat beside her, peeking under the sheets to find her curled up with swollen eyes. He ran his thumb along her cheek with tenderness, an air of guilt clouding his features. She looked up at him, finally meeting his green eyes after many hours of their parents’ back and forth. His eyes hypnotized her with their color and depth, making her heart race. _Love is so costly_.

He placed a soft kiss on her neck and held her closely, hiding himself under the sheets as well. He was warm and his skin was soft as she ran her hand down his arm. _This is not his fault_ , she had to remember, _he’s no more than another pawn in his father’s games_.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t know anything about it.”

“I know.”

He placed his head on her pillow, staring at her eyes. “I know it’s not fair to you or your father. You are _not_ property. If you want to step back from this…”

The rest of the sentence hung in the air, unspoken, filling them both with uncertainty and anguish. _My husband or my home?_ But there was nothing to think about. Be it as it may, she had chosen him to be her husband in sight of gods and men. She wondered if it was Septa Roelle’s voice she heard in her head, making her think of religion, but deep down she knew it was more than that. Her intention when saying their vows had been fighting for him, for them. ‘A marriage needs sacrifice,’ the septon had said, even in his half-drunk state, ‘and sacrifice hurts.’

It hurt indeed, but she was nothing if not honorable. She had to follow her vows through to her very last day. Jaime also had a home, an inheritance, a family, and he was prepared to forsake them in order to marry her. Maybe that was what life was about, making their home, building their own family and heading toward their own future, away from whatever came before them, no matter how bitter.


	9. 100 – 6:30 PM - Gardens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, get ready for a triple update, all in Dorne!
> 
> I **finally** decided to get off my butt and make a playlist for your hearing pleasure (I’m so thinking of you, Coralee), which you will find here <http://mixtube.org/playlist.php?id=17377> with all songs up until this Friday’s next update. I’ll add a full playlist later because I haven’t figured out some of the songs for later chapters.
> 
> [ Chapter 9 – 10 – 11 ]
> 
> The song for this is What Happened by Sublime. For the love of all seven gods, listen to it. I’ve heard it like 20 times and I still laugh every single time.

**100 – 6:30 PM  
** (Gardens)

Jaime and Brienne arrived at the Water Gardens an hour after the phone call with the suitcase in tow. Given their current issues with Brienne’s car, they had taken a cab, their hearts threatening to jump out of their chests during the entire ride. Arys made them step inside through the back door, looking in every single direction and locking the door once they walked in. He snatched the bag right from Jaime’s hands with visible relief, opened it and checked to see if everything was intact.

“Shit, you guys really fucked up,” he whispered. “Why in seven hells did you take the bag?”

Brienne sighed. “We have no idea what happened last night. We really, really need you to tell us what’s going on.”

He led them slowly through a dark, ample corridor, listening intently for anyone’s presence. He whistled in a low tone and a few seconds later Arianne Martell’s face greeted them, coming down a flight of stairs. “They’re gone,” she said in her regular tone of voice. “Did you bring the stuff?”

The girl was wearing a loose yellow dress and brown sandals, her long black hair adorning her shoulders. Jaime couldn’t decide whether she looked more angry or concerned.

“You must be insane to mess with my cousins,” she told them, but when she caught their clueless expressions, she realized they had no idea what she was talking about. “You were more than drunk last night, weren’t you?”

Jaime nodded. “Someone delivered some magic brownies to us by mistake last night.”

Brienne stepped forward. “Please tell us what happened.”

They offered them a cup of strong coffee and some bread and cheese while they told them about their visit. Jaime hadn’t realized how starved he was until he started stuffing food into his mouth, but Brienne’s expression was weary.

Jaime had called Arys at 8 PM, yelling ‘Dorne, man!’ and telling him they should all meet and hang out. In spite of how strange and random the call was, Arys was a nice guy, so he told them they were welcome at the Water Gardens, where he had moved in with his girlfriend since graduation. That had pleased them greatly, considering their desperation to freshen up.

He told them they had arrived in a limousine, with half of Jaime’s body outside of the sunroof, a flute of champagne in his hand. When they got there Dany and Sansa were still with them. They had been puzzled by their attire and their insistence on celebrating their marriage, though Sansa kept stating that they weren’t really married yet, resigned to the current state of affairs.

Daenerys mentioned she had seen people acting that way and the best thing they could do was try to humor them and keep them from any potential danger until their system was clear of whatever they took. They were thankful that they had managed to convince them to buy only one bottle of champagne to celebrate their wedding that wasn’t a wedding. Sansa had even bought a candy ring for Brienne to get her to shut up about losing her actual wedding ring.

At some point in the conversation Tyrion and Shae had arrived. Ellaria had dropped them off when Jaime called to let him know of the new information they had gathered.

Arys finished telling the rest of the story. When he received them Arianne was not there yet, but while she arrived he had welcomed them with a barbecue in the pool, keeping them as far as possible from alcohol and trying to get them to drink water. Brienne’s shyness was gone along with her inhibitions, and the girl had begged Dany to help her take off her dress to swim in the pool. When they thought they had managed to talk her down, she slipped out for a second and almost jumped in with her full dress on. Only Sansa’s terror at getting the gown anywhere near the water had convinced her to let her be, so Brienne and Dany had ended up swimming together in their underwear like teenagers, while Jaime was cursing angrily because his steak was talking back at him.

It was 4:30 AM when they finally left. They called the same limo that drove them there to pick them up. Sansa and Dany were taking turns in the bathroom after helping the bride back into her somehow still pristine dress, but when the girls walked out Brienne and Jaime had left in the limo and the suitcase was gone.

It was a nice enough memory for Brienne to recall then, but it still made her blush immediately. She stole a glance at Jaime, who caught her eyes and smiled. Apparently the thought was as satisfying for him as it had been for her.


	10. 100 - 4:30 AM - Limo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 9 – Chapter 10 – Chapter 11 ]
> 
> Song: Purple Haze by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. And yes, they are listening to it, because I cannot write an LSD trip without this song in the background. C'est impossible.

**100 – 4:30 AM  
** (Limo)

Brienne panted into his ear as she sat on top of him in the back of the seemingly infinite limousine. The divider had been shut once they told the driver to take them back to their hotel, and Brienne had _demanded_ he play Jimi Hendrix during the ride as loud as it would go. The car had barely started moving before he hauled her toward him. She straddled him and he pulled the back of her neck close, engulfing her in a hungry, desperate kiss. It took her no time to respond, rubbing her hips against his crotch and biting his lip.

“We’re alone,” she mumbled, opening his shirt buttons and slipping her hands inside, running them all the way up his back. He was burning, just like she was. She could hear Jimi singing in the background, louder now, then faintly, like she was being pushed underwater and to the surface constantly. She heard Jaime’s familiar voice at certain times, but it was so dim she couldn’t make out the words. All she knew was that she felt like her head was spinning, like the world was moving beneath her feet, like the car they rode was traveling in the clouds.

His attempts to uncover her breasts by lowering the front of her gown turned to be fruitless, the bodice was too tight, so he aimed for her skirt instead. He held her tightly by the waist with his right arm and ran his fingers over her thigh underneath the dress, scratching her with his nails. Her skin turned to ice, she felt breathless, winded, like she wanted steal the air straight from his lungs.

He ran his thumb between her lower lips and she moaned immediately, feeling like a waterfall was running through her. “–enne,” she heard, far, far away. “–ant you.” The sounds of the guitar perforated her brain; she heard and felt nothing else for seconds, sinking in every note. She thought the music was making love to her, but then Jaime bit her neck and her consciousness returned, and she understood that he was the one inside her, sending waves of pleasure through her, one after the other. “Jaime,” she screamed, like he was slipping away and then coming back and then leaving her again. She closed her eyes and saw every color in the rainbow greeting her, and when she opened them again Jaime’s green eyes danced for her.

Then she realized it was herself who had guided his cock inside her, she was still on top thrusting her hips to meet his, while he matched her speed and energy in a seemingly endless rhythm. He groaned and pulled her closer, as close as they could get, before turning her over and laying her underneath him on the back seat. She thought she must have screamed out feeling how hard he was inside her walls, how much faster he went now, how deeply he reached her. “Yes,” she asked, begged of him, “More, Jaime, please, yes…”

It could have been minutes, hours, days. They were infinite. They were dissolving and she couldn’t tell who was moving anymore. It was pure, raw energy and bursts of pleasure running through her body as he fucked her like it was the only thing that mattered to their survival.

When she finally came, she groaned into his ear as she ran her hand down his spine, grabbing his backside and pulling his hips closer, further, tighter. She thought she had never experienced such a sensation of absolute release in her life. Then the guitar filled her ears again; note after note, she kissed Jaime. He explored her mouth slowly with his tongue, tasting her, seducing her. He must have come when she did, because she noticed he had pulled out and felt his seed spilling out of her drop after drop.

The world spun. She took a breath, then another. Jaime’s heart beat against her chest. “We stopped,” she told him. “Did we stop, Jaime?”

He nodded. “The hotel. It’s outside. We’re here.”

She couldn’t tell how long they had been parked there. She thought of the driver, wondered if he’d heard them. She knew her natural reaction should be embarrassment for their lack of restraint, but she couldn’t feel it. She felt like she had just been closer to Jaime than ever before, blurring the lines between their egos, wondering who was who.

She was still lying down with her skirt hiked up as she watched Jaime pay the man. He glowed, a golden light surrounding every single hair, and she heard a roar inside her head. “The lion,” she said, “Mine.”

Jaime nodded, helped her put her underwear back on and straightened her skirt. Then he took care of his pants and belt and helped her out of the limo.

They stood on the street for seconds holding hands, his right arm around her waist. His pupils looked huge. He kissed her deeply as many times as he could in a matter of seconds. “Get a room!” someone screamed from a passing car, taking them out of their spell. They _did_ have a room, she remembered.

But they did not head for the hotel entrance. Jaime led her by the hand to a fast food stand in the corner. Brienne noticed a black briefcase on the floor next to her and thought it must be important, so she picked it up.

Whatever Jaime said to the vendor was incomprehensible for her. All she knew was that a moment later they were both sitting on the curb, still dressed as bride and groom, eating hot dogs, and she kissed a drop of ketchup off his mouth.


	11. 100 - 7:00 PM - Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 9 – 10 – 11 ]
> 
> Song: Arcana – The Nemesis. The Sand Snakes’ theme in my opinion. <3 More on Friday!

**100 – 7:00 PM  
** (Snakes)

“I remember,” Brienne said, steering her thoughts somewhere else so her blush would disappear. “We went back to the hotel. And we did have the briefcase by then, so we were the ones who took it back to the room. I thought it was snow and I dared Jaime to take it so we’d have a snowball fight.”

“So where did the girls go after we left?” Jaime asked.

“They went back to the hotel,” Arianne replied with a puzzled expression, “but I’m guessing they never made it there, or they would have run into you.”

Tyrion had a thoughtful expression on his face as he sipped the tea Arianne had offered, in lieu of his inability to drink any alcohol while he recovered. Jaime had witnessed it many times before, indicating that his brother was knitting many ideas together in his head to reach a conclusion.

“In summary, Jaime and Brienne took the drugs, which made your cousin Obara very angry,” the dwarf indicated, “so I’m guessing the first thing she did was seek to take hostages until they were turned in. Do you know who else might have been in on it?”

Arianne gazed defiantly into Tyrion’s eyes. It was plain to see that she did not like being put on the spot of testifying against her cousins, especially by a Lannister. Oberyn’s death had left a dent in Dorne that ran very deep, and the Martells were nothing if not vengeful. So Jaime could see clearly that the entire plot was planned before they had even set foot in Sunspear, he was just not sure which parts of the night were coincidence and which were premeditated. He couldn’t help but think that his sister had a hand in letting the fierce women know they would be in Dorne; she was never lacking in sources.

The olive-skinned girl sighed and finally said, “I have no particular love for Lannisters. We all know that there’s much more to the story of how my uncle died.” She sat back on her chair and sipped her wine, then licked her lips with a grace that spoke volumes of her refined and calculated nature. “However… From the time we hung out last night I could tell these girls are not bad. Maybe you’re not, either. I hardly think two boys fresh out of college would be let into Tywin’s most elaborate plans.”

Jaime heard a sigh of relief from Brienne at his side. Tyrion held his position, seeking to summon sympathy toward their quandary.

“My cousins don’t care about that. They wouldn’t make any distinction between one lion and another, so long as someone pays. Their father is dead and they deserve vengeance.” The Dornishwoman flicked her hair back from her shoulders. “All I will do to help you find these girls is tell you what I think happened, in spite of the difficult position you’re putting me in. I’ll only do it because I know my father would never allow a Targaryen to be caught in the Sand Snakes’ schemes, not in a million years. He wouldn’t want Daenerys touched.”

“We really appreciate it,” Brienne told her, “All we want is to find them and make sure they’re okay.”

Arianne nodded. “Tyene likes chemistry, especially where their little business is concerned. So I’m sure the brownies were hers. But I see no reason why she would send them to Sansa’s room. She might have mistaken the room, expecting both Lannisters to take the hit.”

_Margaery was right after all_ , Jaime thought, slightly amused, _they were meant for Tyrion’s room. That’s where we were_.

“Sarella likes two things more than anything: meddling and playing games. She might have been working with Tyene to get the two of you drugged enough to get you someplace without drawing too much attention.”

“But there was a fluke,” Tyrion said, “because it was Jaime and Brienne who ate the brownies, and with the girls along it would have been four against two…”

Arianne nodded. “Yeah. But then _you two_ took the drugs. _Obara’s_ drugs. There was no worse decision. Not with the other ones all riled up.”

“Do you think anyone else was involved?” Tyrion asked finally.

“I don’t know. The only one left is my cousin Nym. I don’t know if she might be in on it.”

To Jaime the whole story seemed like a cruel joke. They had come all this way from Kingsland looking to hide and make the experience as hassle-free as possible, and instead they had gotten into all kinds of trouble, and the day was not even done yet. “So the conclusion is that they must have taken the girls once they went back to the hotel in a cab, when Obara found out about the briefcase. What I don’t get is why they haven’t contacted us for an exchange.”

Arianne shrugged. “I don’t know anything else. I’ve told you all I can. Now please grab the briefcase and go. I’ve done enough damage by telling you all of this.”

“Take it?” Tyrion asked, baffled. “We’re giving it back, why would we take it?”

“You’re going to need it when they contact you. If they find it here, they’ll now you involved me, and they’ll get _really_ angry, which is bad for you.”

So off they went, with the briefcase under Jaime’s arm. All four of them made their way back to the hotel on a cab, trying to think of an immediate solution, but nothing came to mind. As frustrating as it was, they would have to wait until they were contacted to meet.

Jaime glanced at Brienne and found her fiddling with her cell phone, possibly thinking of calling the girls, even though she already knew it was no use. He felt bad for her; he knew how close he was to them and she probably felt responsible that they had ended up in this situation, even if they had been dragged through the whole day by all kinds of external circumstances. Right as he was about to reach for her hand, she gasped.

“The message!” she yelled at no one in particular. “I had a text in my cell this morning from an unknown number. It says ‘TV620’. I can’t believe I forgot about something like this.”

Tyrion blinked. “It’s all we have to go on right now,” he pointed out. “We need to get working on this. But someone has to stay at the hotel in case there’s a call or someone shows up. Is Margaery there?”

Jaime shook his head. “She went with Robb to see if they could find something. They were going crazy in there. I’ll do it.” As they reached their destination, he got out of the car. “Call me if you know anything. I’ll start calling restaurants and any place that might begin with those letters.”

As he went back into the hotel, he felt a sense of hopelessness over their search. It felt like the more they found out, the further away they were from finding the girls. But he set out on his mission, hoping that maybe the room phone would finally ring.


	12. 200-300 - Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: The Seatbelts – Piano Bar I
> 
> Here’s the promised long update, a 6000 word chapter to keep you warm this weekend ;) I’m gonna dedicate this to tamjlee, simply because I wrote this about 2 days before she prompted the friendship fic and I felt like she was reading my mind because this is the first chapter that's composed by a range of days in the style of vignettes instead of just one day. (I suspect the rumors are true and you _are_ a detective!). This comes with a warning for high domestic, fluffy and smutty content. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it :)

**200-300  
** (Days)

The workload at Lannister & Co. had increased dramatically during the last couple of days, so it was no wonder Jaime was dozing off right as his head hit the pillow. When his eyelids began to feel heavy, he heard a loud crash in the bathroom, followed by a splash and a high-pitched squeal. He sat up immediately, startled by the noise, when a growl followed. “I swear to the gods if you leave the seat up one more time I’m going to dunk your head in it!”

 _Crap. I’m going to pay for that_.

–––

It was to Margaery and Dany she had decided to turn to, making sure Sansa was nowhere to be seen. Daenerys received them in her terrace, overlooking the city as the sunset appeared in the sky, staining the clouds in purple and orange. The first thing their hostess did was serve each of them a glass of summer wine, knowing that this conversation would probably be the end of Brienne otherwise.

She took in a deep breath after they had some appetizers and finished at least one glass. “I’m ready,” she told them, gathering all her courage.

Malice glimmered in Margaery’s eyes. “Good. Let’s start with the basics. Weapons.”

Dany nodded. “We know you can throw a punch, but see, these are _other_ kinds of weapons.”

Brienne nodded attentively.

“These,” Margaery started, placing her hands on her very well-developed breasts, "Are mid-power weapons. They can be used for a kick start, but may not be enough depending on the context."

Brienne shook her head. "You _do_ know I'm flatter than a boy?"

Dany shook her head. "No, no, no… See, men's… weapon," she added, trying to make her as little awkward as possible, "is like driving a stick. You drive a stick."

She nodded.

"Okay, so… This weapon is like turning on the ignition of his car and going to first gear. It’s automatic, really, not much to think about. All you have to do is display them and the stick… stirs."

Brienne sighed, thinking of her sad little buds.

"So you see, they have the gift of getting a fundamental component called _attention_ ," Margaery added.

"Um, okay…" Brienne was still unconvinced.

"So after you have the attention, that's when you can use the big weapons and shift gears as you like," the brunette continued.

"I thought there was only one more…"

Dany laughed. "Oh, no. That one is _the_ weapon. Heavy load. You got some others that might be quite valuable if you know how to use them."

Margaery stuck out her tongue at her to illustrate. Brienne blushed immediately and looked away, drinking a very big gulp of wine.

"Luckily you have a big mouth," the brunette continued, and the two of them burst out laughing, which only managed to embarrass her further. "I'm betting you need it."

"Nooo," Dany said with a jeer, "I won’t believe it. There has to be something wrong with the man. No one can be that good looking _and_ well endowed, to boot."

"There's nothing wrong with him!" Brienne couldn’t help but exclaim, realizing too late that she had taken the bait. They laughed some more.

"But you have no reference, I mean, how can you be sure he's not… lacking?"

She shrugged. Her friend had a point, but... "It's enough for me," she heard herself say shyly, and laughed with them afterwards.

"Anyway. Obviously that’s the tool you would save for last. It's like a snake looking for a snug lair. There's no fighting it," Margaery concluded.

Dany added, "But you do have to use it wisely. If they get what they want, you'll hold no cards, so first you get whatever it is you're looking for, or during, but never after."

Margaery sipped her wine. "Absolutely. Otherwise you'd be missing the whole point."

Brienne nodded again, taking notes in her head and realizing how clueless she had been up to that moment. The blonde sighed, thinking about how she could possibly apply any of it. "How would I… initiate it?"

Dany smiled. "Cleavage and underwear are winners."

"Towels accidentally slipping."

"Dropping something to the floor and leaning to pick it up,” Dany said with a giggle.

“Extra points if you're wearing only underwear below. Oh, and never underestimate the power of the steam in the bathroom," Margaery took the glass to her lips elegantly. "It never misses."

"But I have no cleavage to speak of."

Dany shook a finger. "Not quite right. The trick with cleavage is to show almost everything, right up to the point where they're almost out, so they'll want to give it that little push."

Margaery nodded in agreement. "We'll take you shopping for a couple of shirts that will do the trick."

She was already starting to forget the beginning by then, but the girls pressed on, giving her every tip they could think of to teach her. She might be ugly and plain, but if there was any way for her to pique Jaime's interest, she wanted to try. Not that he was uninterested at all, but still she felt like she wanted to level with him, and who better to advise her than girls as experienced as these two. She was a married woman now, after all, still much to her surprise.

Half an hour later she had to drink another glass of wine just to be able to hear them explain exactly what it was that she was supposed to do with her tongue.

–––

Brienne got home at 2 AM, her last late shift in the rest of the month, which she was grateful for. Hunt was finally back from covering the last thoroughbred horse races in Highgarden, important for Olenna due to her grandson Willas being one of the best-known breeders in Westeros.

She was so exhausted she barely remembered her name; she had even left her car at the office so she would not have to drive, and her feet felt like they were close to exploding, locked in a pair of short heels. She had to wear a skirt suit, far too formal for her taste, because they had set up a lunch interview with Euron Greyjoy, the Kraken’s new manager, in one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.

It was one of those opportunities when she was not sure what to do first, once she had taken off her shoes, whether she should eat, take a shower or just slump down on her bed and let sleep take her. But her heart warmed upon finding Jaime sleeping on the couch, holding the remote loosely in his hand, with a box of untouched pizza waiting for her on the coffee table, infomercials invading the TV screen. He had waited up for her.

–––

**> Magnificent Husband Jaime: Left important doc @ coffee table. Bring it to me? :)**

That was the first thing she saw on her phone when she woke up that morning (and he had changed his contact name _again_ ). It was her day off and the only thing she wanted to do was hug her bed all day long, but he would lose important time at work if he had to catch a cab all the way to the house and back to his office. All the company documents were so private that she didn’t trust a cab driver to deliver them, either.

She sighed deeply and covered her face with her hands, groaning in annoyance. So far she had managed to avoid visiting Lannister & Co. like the plague, but she was going to have to face the harsh task of making some kind of appearance eventually, so she might as well get it over with already. She threw on a pair of jeans and her last clean t-shirt, one of the oldest and most worn out from the kickboxing team at Kingsland University (it was his turn to do the laundry. Of course she didn’t have anything else to wear).

When she finally arrived she waited in the car, parked in front of the very luxurious skyscraper. Every single vehicle in the street seemed to cost more money than she made in one, or two, or five years. No little fish ever survived the claws of the other investors in the company.

**> I’m at the street. Come down**

He replied almost immediately.

> **Magnificent Husband Jaime:** **No one’s gonna bite. Come here ;)**

The man was nothing if not mischievous. He was going to make her go through some embarrassing episode in front of all his co-workers, surely.

**> Come down or I’ll leave with your docs  >:(**

This time the response took longer.

**> Magnificent Husband Jaime: Come up. Will give u very naughty surprise 2nite if you do**

Well, that was interesting. But ‘surprise’ was too vague. Brienne knew him well enough to realize that he might look for some loophole in the message to get out of it.

**> What kind of surprise?**   
**> Magnificent Husband Jaime: Mistrustful wench. U ask, I’ll give**   
** > How long?**   
** > Magnificent Husband Jaime: As long as you stay here**

She mulled it over. If she was going to get into this, she might as well make some profit out of it.

**> 10 min of whatever I want for each min I’m up there. And dishes for a week**   
**> Magnificent Husband Jaime: WTF!**   
** > Wearing KU Kickboxing t-shirt. YOUR turn to do the laundry**   
** > Magnificent Husband Jaime: Robbing me blind. But OK**

Gathering all her strength, she picked up the documents from the passenger seat and headed upstairs, already embarrassed by her attire. Even the receptionists were dressed very formally. One had asked her destination and name, and gave her an amused stare when she told her she was Jaime Lannister’s wife. The woman even called to inquire about it before she let her through the main gate as a visitor, so Brienne felt a pang of satisfaction when she heard her say, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lannister, I promise it won’t happen again” in a terrified tone under her breath.

When the elevator doors to the last floor opened, she thought she might as well have walked into a spaceship. It was destined only for the highest positions, so every single office was as spacious as three or four regular ones. All the doors and most walls were glass, the desks sparkled, the floors were white marble and there was a gigantic lion sigil engraved in the center of the room. The air conditioning made the air inside so cold that her skin turned to goosebumps as soon as she walked in. She was taking her first steps inside when she heard Tywin Lannister’s voice and her first panicked reaction was leaping and hiding behind a Meereenese Ficus in a corner, covering her face with the documents for good measure. The voices of both him and his companion approached and faded, and she peeked for a second to confirm that her father-in-law had disappeared into the elevator.

The gesture did not go unnoticed by Tyrion, who emerged beside her out of nowhere. He could not contain a huge grin as she moved away from the plant, combing her hair with her hand and trying to will her blush away. He was wearing a perfectly fitted expensive suit with a striped gold tie.

“You’re already married, you know,” he told her, “And he _is_ your father-in-law. Might as well face the three-headed monster now or you’re gonna have some very bad sixty years or so.”

“Sixty? So he’ll live forever?”

Tyrion led her toward Jaime’s office. “He’ll outlive us all, I can assure you that.”

Jaime’s office was next to his father’s. It was both spacious and bare enough to throw a party. She would have never liked that environment; it would have made her feel extremely lonely. Brienne much preferred her desk next to ten others and the noises of the other reporters all around her, making her feel that all the people in that room had the very important job of delivering news to Westeros every day. Pod’s enthusiasm to learn made her feel good in her role as a teacher, and even Hyle’s company had become bearable and sometimes nice, not to mention that she got to spend time with Margaery.

“Thank you for escorting my dear wife to my office,” Jaime told his brother with his eyebrows raised, “She was so very reluctant to come visit me.”

Brienne was extremely grateful that he did not mention the ridiculous episode with his father. Tyrion gave him a nod and left without another word, leaving them alone.

“Glass doors and walls? So you people just see each other all the time?” she asked him, handing him the documents.

“Aesthetics. My father is all about appearances. He says it makes the investors feel like we have nothing to hide.”

She sat on the chair in front of his desk. It was black leather, far more comfortable than hers at The Golden Rose. “I didn’t know Tyrion was working here. He hasn’t graduated yet.”

“Neither has she,” Jaime told her, pointing at the hallway with his head.

Cersei Lannister walked down the corridor with an entire entourage around her. There were two women with folders in their arms, asking her questions and possibly seeking signatures or instructions. Further behind her there was a very plump, bald man wearing a clear grey suit. He looked serious enough to be a lawyer or economist, but she could not be certain. Out of her companions, she was most surprised by Sandor Clegane.

“What’s Clegane doing here?” Brienne asked him, quite puzzled. “And I didn’t know she was around, either.”

He shrugged. “Cersei started three days ago and up until this morning she hadn’t even moved into this floor. My cousin thinks herself important enough to have three secretaries, one personal lawyer and a bodyguard around her at all times. That’s where Clegane comes in.” He laughed. “Secretary number three quit after two hours. That should tell you how she’s handling the personnel.”

The only word she could come up with to describe the environment was _cutthroat_ , and she had only been there a few minutes. A bad feeling crept into her, thinking about Jaime spending so many hours interacting with such individuals, hoping in her heart that getting deeply involved in the bleakest company of the business world would not disarm him.

“Tyrion’s really ahead in his classes, so he’s working here whenever he can. He’s already giving the experts at the financial department a run for their money. Father will have to open his eyes and let him lead it when he graduates.” Jaime rolled his eyes. “They’re all assholes, and I’m convinced more than one is filling his pockets under the table. But it’s not my place to tell, so… I just stick to my desk, handle contracts and shadow my father all fucking day long. One of these days I’m gonna have to stand outside his bathroom door while he takes a shit.”

Brienne did not really want to ask about his cousin, but her interest was still piqued. As far as she was concerned, she had never graduated because she pursued her modeling career, and surely there was no modeling-related business going on in Lannister & Co. “What does _she_ do?” she whispered, as if she could hear her through the exposed walls.

“What else?” He laughed. “PR.”

That made enough sense. The woman could be charming to anyone who interested her; she had all the beauty and charisma to get the attention of any important figure of interest, while at the same time having Tywin’s merciless abilities to threaten the media when they dissatisfied her. She couldn’t help but think that she’d be good at that job.

Brienne stood up to leave, but Jaime reached out for her hand. The feeling of his prosthetic hand was unfamiliar and it bothered her that his father forced him to wear it. No one else seemed to accept his flaw but her; it was a part of him and it frustrated her to know that he had to carry something that made his wrist ache at the end of the day. He realized he had used the wrong arm out of habit and traded them, he knew she wanted just him, without the ornaments.

“You come to visit me and I don’t even get a kiss?”

She looked around her. “Anyone can see us. Plus I didn’t come to visit. I came exclusively to deliver these in exchange for some promises that I will very much compel you to keep.”

He directed a knee-weakening smile at her. “I _will_ keep them. But not if you leave me here all cold and desolate.”

Brienne rolled her eyes, but complied. Of course that one kiss became many kisses bordering on lewd thanks to his long-term fantasy of getting randy in his office, thinking it was some kind of lion’s den and she was the afternoon snack. It was starting to get interesting when she opened her eyes for a second and broke apart to catch her breath, then noticed Tywin’s figure passing by and looked away as though she could vanish out of sheer willpower. She peeked through the corner of her eye and caught him looking at them contemptuously, but he did not even slow his step, ignoring them as if they were teenagers in the living room of his mansion.

 _Lannisters_ , she thought, shaking her head. _I’ve **got** to get out of here_.

“You seriously owe me.”

–––

She never, ever asked him to stay when he wanted to go out, if anything, it gave her a chance to catch up on her reading or write an additional piece of an article or re-watch an important game of baseball, which she knew he couldn't stand. She would also take the opportunity to organize the kitchenware the exact way she liked, without him mocking her for being so neurotic about it.

But tonight she wanted him to stay.

They had been missing each other during most days that week, she had to pull many night shifts to cover the semi finals and finals in basketball, and he left very early to shadow his father at the morning meetings with the investors and legal advisors.

So they only saw each other briefly; by the time he woke up she was either getting home or had just gone to bed. Tonight was her first night off and he had plans with Tyrion, who had fallen off the face of the planet during his final exams. She felt it for him, she really did, but for the first time she wanted to monopolize Jaime and forget about the outside world.

She didn't want to ask him for it, though, and he had not thought about staying. Maybe he felt that she wanted to make up for her hours of missed sleep, but she was actually slightly lagged from her unstable hours and at the moment she was feeling perky, even if it would lead to a crash later.

So she gathered all her courage and decided that, without any other options in sight, she should try to apply her friends' advice and brace herself for the outcome.

The first step was throwing on one of the shirts they had bought, with such an ample neckline that even her flat chest looked inviting, seeming as if one sleeve of the dark green shirt had fallen down her shoulder accidentally. As he got home and approached the bedroom, she made sure to leave the remote at the foot of the bed, then crawled toward it on all fours as he came in, like nothing was amiss, further amplifying the cleavage. Then she swallowed slowly and focused on not blushing as she sat back down as gracefully as she could (which was not much at all).

He greeted her with a kiss and though his eyes wandered about her for a moment, he was not yet picking up the signs.

Jaime went to have a quick shower, so in spite of her every internal objection she followed Margaery's advice and retrieved a Popsicle from the fridge when she heard him finishing up in the bathroom, feeling like a complete fool. She kept her eyes on the TV as sucked on it, tying herself into knots by trying to find a balance between looking innocent and making the act of eating the Popsicle far more obscene than she would have in any other situation. _Do not blush, do not blush_ …

This time his eyes wandered for much longer, his mouth half open, staring at her tongue. She did everything she could to keep her gaze on the TV while still spying him through the corner of her eye. He came out of his spell as a commercial of his favorite steak restaurant came on, and then he was drying his hair with a towel and telling her some story about an investor, which was apparently funny, but she wasn't paying the least bit of attention. _Of all possible things, a steak, really? Somewhere the gods are laughing at me._

She heard Dany’s voice in her head telling her it was time to pull out a higher level of weapon, so she stood from the bed and walked around it, seemingly heading for the bathroom. She had taken Margaery’s wear-only-underwear-below advice (and actually even let them force her to buy a pair of pink lace panties, whose color she had winced at, but she had dared wear because the gods knew she needed all the help she could get), so she walked as slowly as possible without even realizing she was holding her breath. She must have got his attention because he was struggling to continue the story, seemingly lost mid-sentence.

 _Like fishing_ , Margaery said in her head, _hook, line and sinker_.

She dropped the remote on the floor and wanted to say something like ‘Oops’ but she could barely form words, let alone say something sassy, so she just bent down to pick it up, making sure her shirt hiked up in the motion (‘That’s half the idea behind the bending!’ Dany had emphasized).

When she straightened up, she finally gathered the courage to look at his face, and was pleasantly surprised to notice he wasn’t really talking anymore, but he _was_ staring her down with a gaze that she had gotten to know quite well, though she hardly ever obtained it intentionally.

“You know what? I think I can meet Tyrion tomorrow,” he said a moment later, throwing away the shoe in his hand, sitting at the foot of the bed. “It’s not really beer I’m craving tonight.”

A slight blush crept into her cheeks. _Success!_ she thought when he pulled her by the bulky shirt, _I owe the girls some presents_.

–––

The lace panties were a lot, a _lot_ of fun in Jaime’s opinion, until he opened the washing machine to find every single piece of the white load turned into a sea of pink. Though it was _his_ turn to do the laundry, _she_ had separated the loads and left them ready to wash.

“Brienne!” he called her. “Our whites are no longer white thanks to you!”

She stayed silent for a moment and he wondered if she’d heard him, but then she replied with a meek, “Sorry!”, the embarrassment seeping into her tone.

He shook his head, containing an amused laugh. She was probably bashing herself over the head for it with a burning face. He knew he did not have to ask why it had escaped her; it was the very first piece of non-white, non-black underwear he had seen her wear in his life.

–––

“Hello?”

Hunt’s voice regarded him on the other side of their home phone.

“She’s not here.” Jaime hung up.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked him between moans, “You’re positively pathological… with this… Hunt… thing.”

“You need to call in sick. I mean, I’m pathological.” He licked his lips. “Who knows what madness you’ve caught from me.”

She shook her head, but two strokes of his tongue later, she was picking up her cell phone. “Hey. I’m on my way, but I’m not feeling so–” She couldn’t help but groan, but managed to turn it into a cough. “–good. I gotta go home. I’ll… catch up… tomorrow.” She didn’t even wait for a reply before ending the call.

Jaime lifted his head from between her thighs and grinned at her in satisfaction.

–––

They were sitting on the couch watching a late-night rerun of Karate Kid and eating takeout when everything went dark.

“A blackout?” Brienne asked him, puzzled.

He got up and approached the window, looking out at the neighbor’s house. Almost every single window was lit up. “Nope.”

“Did you pay the electricity bill?” she inquired.

“It was _your_ turn.”

“It was _not_ my turn. I paid last month!”

“It’s August!”

She paused. The last week had been so hectic at the office that she barely even knew the current date. She blushed. “Hey, Jaime?”

“Yeah?”

“I think maybe I forgot to pay the bill.”

He laughed. “Candlelight it is.”

–––

When Jaime approached the kitchen, he caught Brienne like a girl red-handed in some mischief. She wore a white long-sleeved shirt that he had worn for an important meeting with some investors, crumpled by their passionate encounter. It felt arousing to imagine her in that meeting instead, fucking her without repair in the conference room without a care in the world.

She had even thrown on some underwear, their level of intimacy ironically insufficient for her to walk around their house naked. Brienne held the refrigerator door open and looked up at him with a guilt-ridden expression, a spoon in her mouth and a pint of Häagen-Dazs in her hand. He bit his lip through a grin, watching her long, toned legs peeking under the shirt, inviting him to run his hand through them, to spread them apart…

A laugh escaped her lips as she put away the ice cream and threw the spoon into the sink. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He approached her with the awareness of a panther, standing before her against the sink, without so much as touching her. "Oh, you're being coy, are you?"

She bit her fleshy lower lip and walked back a single step, her backside pressing against the counter. "I'm not being anything. Just asking."

He brought his lips close to her ear, still carefully avoiding any kind of contact. "I'm looking at you like you're my wife," he whispered, making sure his hot breath brushed her neck in the process. "I'm looking at you like I want to do my duty as a husband."

Jaime heard her breath catch in her throat, feeling the heat radiating from her cheek warming the air between them.

"Well, I would like nothing more than to please my husband." She maintained her position, waiting for him to come to her, wanting him to be the one to reach out. As of late she had started enjoying playing the bait; she had began entertaining some fantasy of being constantly sought out, letting herself believe that he wanted her, that he desired her, day after day she had gone from skepticism to reveling in it, awakening the most smoldering cravings in her and allowing her to explore him, losing her bashfulness slowly but with a certainty.

But Jaime also liked to play games with her, their need to struggle for dominance making him brazen, causing him to tease her, to incite her into a violence that he was sure she was unaware existed previously, forcing her to ask for it, to moan and scream and to turn their bed into a battlefield, until they were so worn out they sought the most tender of touches and soft words and besotted glances as if nothing had happened seconds before.

He pulled back his head and faced her, staring into her glimmering eyes, studying every shade of their blue that threatened to make him submit to her invitation to take her if he dared.

"So then please me," he told her softly with a smirk, placing both arms at her sides against the counter, trapping her against it without a single touch.

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm here for you to take."

"What a coincidence. Here I am, too. I wouldn't want my little wife to believe I would ever force myself upon her."

A glint of irritation showed up in her eyes. "Little?"

His smirk turned into a grin. "Would you rather I say my huge, towering wife?"

She shifted her eyes at him, moving one hand behind her back. "Only if it pleases my tiny, pretty husband."

He laughed. "I can show you there's nothing tiny about him." Jaime wasn't modest and he had no problems wandering naked in their house, so his very erect cock was plain for her to see. His face neared hers slightly until their lips were almost touching, her breath tickling his upper lip.

Just as he was about to lose it and give in, determined to fuck her until she forgot her name, a cold jet of water took him right on the face, shocking him and making him shiver.

He looked up to find her laughing breathlessly with the sink hose in her hand. "I'm guessing now you'll see how tiny it is," she told him.

He reached out to grab it but she pushed away his hand and turned it on again, drenching him from head to toe, the water pooling on the floor. But she couldn't stop laughing and her strength abandoned her, so he took the hose from her hand and released a spray of water all over her, soaking her hair and running down all over his shirt, and his laugher joined hers as they struggled for the utensil, dousing everything around them.

If his cock had a momentary setback from the cold, it was not for long. Soon the shirt she was wearing became so soaked that her hardened nipples stuck to the wet fabric, making him even more aroused than before. Seconds later their tongues were struggling in a feverish kiss; lips were bitten and licked and sucked. The taste of her mouth thrilled him, her tongue tarnished by the caramel, by her own familiar taste, even by their own essence from minutes earlier, when she had been savoring him in all his length instead of the ice cream.

He half-carried, half-dragged her to the table, pushing a pile of her sports magazines out of the way, setting her down and spreading her legs unceremoniously. She pulled down her underwear as if it was burning her skin and he struggled with the buttons on the shirt before growing desperate and tearing them, formality be damned, exposing her damp breasts, drops of water running down from her hair to her chest.

He entered her in one sure thrust, extracting a wanton moan from her lips. He pushed in and out of her fervently, reaching down with his hand to run his thumb along her nub, taking a nipple between his lips as she pulled on his hair, his name sounding like a dirty word on her lips, resonating around the kitchen.

As he felt himself reach deeper inside her, his hips moving aggressively, he took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers, to keep her steady. Her fingertips closed around his ring, which seemed to arouse her further, and she matched every movement of his hips, asking him for more.

She came seconds after he did, pulling him towards her until he lay atop her on the table, kissing his neck and running her hands over his back. He could feel her own rings against his muscles, cold against their warm skins, and understood the excitement that overtook her. Being married meant that they would get to do this over and over and over again, everywhere and anywhere, for years to come.

–––

Jaime had been staring at her chest so often that by now he basically knew every angle, curve and detail about her small breasts. So when he went back into their room after leaving the house because he had left his cell phone behind, catching her in the middle of dressing, he was surprised to notice that they somehow looked _bigger_ (and he would know).

She was already wearing pants and her chest was only uncovered while she found an acceptable shirt to wear to work, but he was shocked, to say the least. His mind went in only one direction, a wave of panic tingling in him. He started counting in his head, days and money, hours and months, and it made him so nervous that he left without asking a single question. She had not even noticed he’d come back at all.

All day at the office his mind was a blank. Documents came in to be signed, calls were made, lunch was eaten, e-mails were read, but he felt like an automaton while doing it. The only thoughts in his head were cribs, diapers, expenses, sleepless days, diapers, a very, very cranky Brienne, a very, very tall kid, schools, a bigger house, _diapers_.

By the time he got home he must have looked like a desperate man. Half of him wanted to be supportive, while the other half wanted to scream and wonder why they had such a lack of self-restraint and why he had not thought this might happen and how they could possibly pull this off barely six months after getting married.

Something smelled delicious in the kitchen; she was cutting up some potatoes and there was a smell of roasted chicken coming from the oven, which managed to wake his appetite (all day he had been feeling queasy), and when he saw her the only thing he could think about was that he had to man up and face it. This was not a woman who would respect weakness, let alone in him.

So he stepped in with his back straight and his head high and announced, “I know what’s going on.”

Brienne gave him a puzzled expression, holding a very dangerous-looking knife in her hand.

“I know you’re…” He took a deep breath. “Pregnant.”

She blinked once, twice, and then burst out laughing, baffling him.

“You think this is funny?” he asked in dismay.

“I’m not pregnant,” she replied, still laughing. “Why in the world would you think that?”

He stared at her breasts. She looked down with an inquisitive expression. He made a gesture for her to understand he meant their size. “They’re bigger.”

“Okay. What in seven hells…? I’m the _opposite_ of pregnant, Jaime. And hopefully I _won’t_ be pregnant for many, many years, or I’ll be suing the pill company.”

He shook his head. “But that’s never happened before.”

She shrugged, resuming her task of cutting up the potatoes. “It doesn’t happen all the time. Just some months.” She stifled a laugh. “But I’m glad to see that you can keep it together in that case.”

He was so relieved he could almost cry.

–––

Jaime cursed himself for drinking those last two beers when he woke up in the middle of the night with his bladder about to explode. He got up as quietly as possible not to bother Brienne, who slept soundly beside him.

He was only starting to feel relieved as he stood half-asleep in front of the toilet when he felt something wet splashing against his leg. His eyes flashed open at the suddenness of it, and he rushed to turn on the light to find a film of plastic wrapped over the seat, and both his thighs and the floor a mess. “Brienne!” he yelled angrily.

It took her a second to wake up, but once she did, all he heard was her drowsy chuckles. Then she yelled back, “You made me fall in again, so maybe now you’ll get that you need to leave the damn seat down!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be on vacation for a week and a half starting today, so updates might be a little unstable next week, but I will hopefully be making at least 2 updates (guaranteed or your money back). As always, feedback will be cuddled!


	13. 100 - 8:00 PM - Brienne - TV620

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update, because I can :) I won't post a full playlist until this is done because I realized some of the songs are kind of spoiler-ish, so here's a [playlist](http://mixtube.org/playlist.php?id=17406) with today's 2 songs. Thanks so much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter!
> 
> [ Chapter 13, Chapter 14]  
> Song: Pacific Gas & Electric - Staggolee

**100 – 8:00 PM – Brienne  
** (TV620)

“A restaurant,” Brienne suggested as they walked down the strip.

“The name of a hotel,” Shae threw in. “It’s the most abundant thing in this fucking city.”

Tyrion shook his head. “A restaurant would be too crowded, I think. A hotel might be closer. Maybe a warehouse?”

Brienne added, “If we go by abundance, I think strip clubs would win out.” They were passing right by one called Lips as she mentioned it. Two girls with huge bosoms were winking at Tyrion.

Half an hour had already passed. They had decided to start on the strip, looking at the names of places or their commercial numbers. So far they had gotten nowhere, and Jaime had not called them with any new information.

“I think the number is a time,” Tyrion decided. “It fits the timeline. You and Jaime left for the hotel at about 4:30 AM. Obara had to find out about the drugs almost right away, otherwise she couldn’t have taken the girls. So they were probably telling you to meet them at 6:20 AM.”

“It makes enough sense to me,” Brienne replied, “so now let’s focus on the letters.”

“Wandering around is getting us nowhere,” Shae whined. “My feet are getting blisters from walking around in these heels. We should come up with something else.”

“Well, we’ve walked about eight blocks and we still haven’t found anything with those letters. So I guess we’ll have to let the money do the talking.” Tyrion approached the nearest establishment, a three-floor motel with the banner of a woman swimming in a martini glass. “Hello there,” he greeted the security guard outside, moving his head closer to the man’s chest to read his nametag. “Mord.” He was squat and bald, with a big belly and a cheap-looking suit. “My friends and I are looking for some information.” He flashed him a bill. “I got something here to keep you company.”

The guard kept a dumbfounded expression. “What kinda information?”

“We’re wondering if there are any popular places in Sunspear that start with the letters TV.”

The man frowned at the question, like the task of thinking was too much of an effort. “What kinda place?”

“Any place. Strip clubs, restaurants… Underground clubs, if you know what I mean.”

He stood there with his mouth open. Brienne was starting to think it was a lost cause, but then the man finally landed on a reply, “There’s The Viper. A hotel down on the strip. But it ain’t no underground place… It’s a five-star hotel. There’s also The Victory Theater… It’s a drag club, I think.”

Shae snapped her fingers. “That’s perfect. Underground. Good place for an exchange.”

Tyrion shook his head. “That would be TVT.”

Mord went back to thinking. “Uhh… The Vixen is a bar, down on Fifth Avenue. There’s The Vale.”

“The Vale?” Shae inquired. “As in, The Vale of Arryn?”

“As in a very bad metaphor for a woman’s tits,” Tyrion said. “I know the place. Some of the fat-pocketed investors at Lannister & Co. own it.”

“Do you think that could be it?” Brienne asked.

He shrugged. “Does anything else come to mind?”

“No, nothing popular. I hear people talkin’ about places all the time. I ain’t heard of any others with those letters.”

They left the man behind and continued to walk down the strip, in spite of Shae’s many protests. By then the sky was speckled with stars. The flashy lights of all the hotels and casinos were lit up, the traffic on the streets increased. Brienne was grateful they were finally getting a respite from the blistering sun and the humidity it brought. The nights in the city were cool, almost cold.

First they headed to The Vixen, the closest location, but it proved to be fruitless as soon as they arrived. The bartender was an old, almost toothless man and the place was so small it could barely fit its seven tables. There was a group of worn out men playing dominoes in one of them, and a smell of cigarettes and urine that would make anyone with a nose look for the way out as quickly as possible. Shae still questioned the man. Apparently the girl either had no sense of smell or was accustomed to such. He said there had been no women there in days except for themselves.

Getting to The Vale took them at least half an hour. To Brienne it felt like much longer, worrying about her friends, making up dreadful scenarios in her head, wondering if she would have to call Catelyn Stark to tell her she had lost her daughter. She tried to divert her thoughts, to think of something more positive, to focus on the fact that it was only the two girls missing now and they had a closer idea to what really happened to the previous night.

It was half past eight when they got there, and the first thing Brienne felt upon seeing it was her heart skipping a beat. It was a purple building, with a huge sign in lighted pink letters. Only The Vle could be read, as the ‘a’ was turned off, probably forgotten. What perplexed Brienne was the police line around it, making her fear the worst.

“Shit,” she heard Shae whisper beside her.

They approached a very squat man with a face that made her think of a toad, quite overweight and bald. He was holding a clipboard and bossing people around, but no one seemed too eager to follow his instructions. There were three black police cars parked around the street, one of them marked ‘Vice’.

“These people are from the Night’s Watch,” Brienne told Tyrion softly, “Don’t they take only federal cases?”

He nodded. “Let’s find out what happened first. We can’t expect the worst just yet.”

Tyrion walked up to the man with an astute expression that made him seem regal in spite of his stature. _He’s giving off the Lannister vibe_ , she thought. It was not unfamiliar to her; Jaime had used it many times before when it was convenient for him to manipulate Tywin Lannister’s credit for whatever action suited him. She had seen the effects as well; people became suddenly acquiescent and willing to accommodate them as best they could.

“With whom do I have the pleasure to speak?” Tyrion asked him.

The man scoffed. “Go away, kids. We got an investigation going on here.”

“Well, see, we have an investigation of our own going on. Tywin Lannister’s son would surely appreciate it if you would be so kind as to tell me your name.”

He finally looked up from his pad, inspecting Tyrion. “Mr. Lannister,” he replied, “Of course. Janos Slynt is my name, sir. I’m an agent of the Night’s Watch. How can I help?”

A grin spread across the dwarf’s face. “Can you tell us what happened here?”

“We received an anonymous call denouncing racketeering in this club during the very early hours of the morning. We had reports before, but this time we managed to find the culprits.” His chest swelled with pride. “We apprehended everyone present for questioning and closed it. There were pounds of cocaine and methadone hidden in the back.”

“May we come in?” Tyrion asked the man.

Janos Slynt hesitated, but taking a second look at Tyrion, he lifted the police line to let the three of them through. They walked in and found the club in complete disarray, chairs on the floor, drinks spilled everywhere, a few broken bottles on the counter from an apparent shooting, but there was fortunately no blood to be seen.

“We’re looking for a girl with auburn hair,” Tyrion told him after making sure no one else was in the room. “And one with silver hair and violet eyes. Did you by any chance find them here when you arrived?”

Brienne’s phone started ringing. When she was about to pick up, the man held up his hand. “Please refrain, miss. Can’t allow cell phones on a crime scene. Information leaks and all.”

She nodded and let it go to voicemail, making a mental note to check it as soon as they could.

“What kind of hair is auburn?” the man asked in a confused tone.

“Red hair,” Shae replied.

“Ah, yeah. There were many girls, strippers, but we weren’t lookin’ at their hair, if you know what I mean.” He laughed. “But not many girls who were dressed. There was a blonde and a redhead. Can’t tell if her hair was silver or not. Not a lot of light.”

Brienne’s eyes lit up at the response. “Where are they?!”

“All of ‘em were taken to the Night’s Watch quarters for questioning like I said. It may be they’re still there. Don’t know.”

Once more despair washed over them. Brienne had to discard the idea immediately. The first thing they had done was calling the authorities to see if they had been found, but the search had brought them no results. That meant that if they were here, it was before the crows raided the club.

Tyrion assured him he would get a handsome reward for his troubles and they marched out, right back on square one. As they started to walk down the street once more, waiting for a cab to appear, the dwarf turned to look at her. “You know, I haven’t even had a chance to wonder why we’re walking at all. Jaime told me you girls drove down here in your car. Where is it?”

Brienne sighed. “Well, that was why we found the drugs in the first place. We got a flat tire and when we checked the trunk, it was full of snakes.”

Tyrion stopped on his heels with a dazed expression on his face. “Why didn’t either of you tell me this before?!” he exclaimed.

She shrugged, puzzled by his reaction. “We didn’t think it was important. Jaime said it meant that we were in serious trouble with the Sand Snakes. Then we found the briefcase and understood why… I guess we didn’t think there was anything more to it than a threat. A very hazardous threat.”

Tyrion grunted in annoyance. “The two of you got it all wrong. They’re not just a threat. You kept waiting for a message and you’ve had it under your noses all along. The snakes _are_ the message. There’s a snake house at The Spear Tower, the Martell’s hotel.”


	14. 83 - Bridesmaids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 13, Chapter 14 ]  
> Song: Blondie - One Way or Another

**83  
** (Bridesmaids)

Brienne had spent the last hour and a half alternating between jogging next to Jaime and racing him all over the streets of their neighborhood, training for the upcoming annual half-marathon sponsored by Lannister & Co. It was one of the few days when they both had a free afternoon, so after their run they managed to make an impromptu stop at the park when she caught up with him and knocked him to the floor, turning into a round of wrestling on top of the grass and finishing with an exhausted walk back home with a pair of smoothies at hand.

All Brienne wished for when she went in was a warm shower, a delicious meal, and mindlessly watching movies for the rest of the day, but when she opened her door and passed by the living room, she was greeted by the sight of her friends sitting on her couch, looking up at her with very serious faces.

She turned around to glare at Jaime, but he shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I was with you.”

“Hiding the key under the mat, guys, really?” Margaery told them. “Please come in.”

Something in her gut told her she must get away as fast as she could, but she approached them against her better judgment.

“We’re all here because we love you,” Sansa started, looking right into her eyes. “And we want the best for you.”

_Oh. No_.

The redhead continued, “We have considered all our options and have managed to think of a plan to help you through this endeavor. We will be there for you every step of the way.”

“No, no, no, and no!” Brienne replied immediately, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Jaime!” When she turned to look for him, she noticed he was gone, the entrance wide open. _That bastard_.

Dany stood and dragged her to the couch. “We only do this for your own good,” she assured her.

“Is this what I think it is?” Brienne asked, though she already knew the answer.

Sansa nodded. “This is a wedding intervention.”

–––

Two hours later, her head was spinning from looking at color palettes and touching fabrics and drinking at least six different types of champagne because according to Dany they were not all the same (she could not, for the life of her, tell the difference). She had managed to shut down the idea of any additional guests, which wasn’t so difficult after all, given the secrecy of the ceremony, but all the other variables in the equation were attacking her with a fury.

Dany had an entire rating system down for the champagne; she and Margaery kept insisting that she absolutely needed to understand and savor the difference between ‘prestige cuvée’ and ‘blanc de noirs’, and many other names that she was unable to remember, so when she was at her dizziest from drinking so much, she had agreed that they were absolutely right and they should go with Dom Perignon, some ancient Valyrian variety, just to settle the whole discussion.

When she thought her consumption of anything was done, Sansa appeared with an enormous box from the kitchen and placed it on the coffee table. Margaery came in behind her, bringing plates and spoons. “Now the fun part,” the brunette said, opening the box. It was filled with all sorts of mini-cakes; chocolate, strawberries, red velvet, anything she could imagine. So her night would end up with a sugar crash as well as her post-champagne giddiness.

As she finished the last bite of her triple chocolate (that she liked so much she made sure to save a piece for when Jaime got home and they could enjoy it _very privately_ ), she was about to open her mouth to ask if they were finally done, but Dany spoke first, “We’re not nearly there yet.”

“Dress,” was all Sansa said.

“No.”

“I’m making it.”

“No.”

“I’m making you a beautiful, fabulous, magnificent dress that will make you shine like a star.”

“No.”

“And you’re wearing it.”

The redhead glared at her, and Brienne shifted her eyes. The only thing that could possibly make her look more ridiculous than her already outstanding frame and stature would be wrapping herself in a wedding dress. She could imagine Jaime’s face watching her as she went into the sept, immediately reevaluating his decision to marry her and excusing himself to go to the bathroom, then leaving a Jaime-sized hole on the door while the guests laughed at her in the background.

“No, no, no.”

“Let’s negotiate,” Margaery interjected, “There must be something you want us to drop in exchange for you wearing the dress.”

She bit her lip and tried to think of something. She counted the guests in her head, unable to think of anyone to uninvite, but there was one thing she was most eager to get rid of. “The photographer.”

Dany winced, but said nothing.

“I’ll wear a dress only if there is _no evidence_ of it later. No decorations at the sept, no cheesy music, no party afterwards. We’ll just hang out at the hotel.”

Sansa shook her head. “Too much!”

Margaery sighed. “Okay, I don’t think it’s so bad. But _at least_ flowers at the sept.”

“I hate flowers.”

“All brides need at least some flowers. I’ll let you have no bouquet, but we’ll set up some floral arrangements on the benches.”

Brienne paused to think. “Sunflowers.”

“Tulips,” Sansa told her. “I know you hate roses. But you can have white tulips. Like the dress.”

She sighed. “Okay, fine, but nothing weird on the dress. No frills, no ruffles, no veils, no train. No ball gown skirts.” Her gaze settled on Sansa’s face, which was starting to look more and more displeased at every word. “Nothing a Disney princess would wear.”

The redhead agreed begrudgingly, “Fine. But bridesmaid dresses.”

“Nothing fluorescent.”

Margaery stepped in. “Pick a color. Maybe your house colors?”

“Blue,” she replied simply.

“Is that the only color?” Sansa asked.

“Blue or bronze. But nothing flashy!”

They all finally settled into an irritated silence. Compromise definitely was hard for all parties involved. But Brienne did try to please her friends, especially after deciding to elope, which crushed Dany’s dream of having the wedding at her terrace, Margaery’s dream of getting the exclusive for The Golden Rose – it would be something absurdly lavish according to her, because the Lannisters were the closest thing to royalty they had in Kingsland – and Sansa’s hopes of _everything_ , really.

“There’s something else,” Dany said, drinking the last of the champagne, “The cloaks.”

That was the only thing Brienne didn’t object to. Though it was an ancient religious custom only used in elegant weddings, she had always dreamed of her father having the opportunity to place her cloak around her shoulders. She felt like much of a disappointment as a daughter, barely fitting any mold set out before her, and she had never imagined anyone might want to marry her. Not having him for the wedding made her feel sad, while at the same time slightly relieved at being able to postpone telling him about her relationship with Jaime. She had no idea how he would take the news of her marrying a Lannister.

But the cloak would make her feel like a little part of him was there, so she agreed. Sansa would take care of the cloak, her dress and the bridesmaids’. Dany would be in charge of the flowers and Margaery would make sure the champagne and cake were safely delivered to the hotel in Dorne.

The hotel was another discussion; Margaery said it had to be a five star hotel, but Dany agreed with Brienne – it was better to remain low profile at a regular hotel. After shutting down mani-pedis, dove-releasing, rice-throwing, carriage riding and the bedding ceremony (which was just too hypocritical at this point), agreeing to have Dany do her hair and Sansa do her make-up (after the dress, what did it matter, really?), the girls helped her clean up the boxes and bottles and left.

Jaime came back half an hour later, peeking into the house to see if her friends were gone. She could have choked him for leaving her alone to suffer when the whole idea of getting married was his, but he flashed her a knee-weakening smile and all she could think of was giving him a taste of the glorious triple-chocolate cake in a very compromising position.


	15. 100 - 9:30 PM - Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 15, Chapter 16 ]  
> Song: Willy Deville - It's so Easy ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqDwnT_HSXg))

**100 – 9:30 PM  
** (Exchange)

The Spear Tower was as luxurious a hotel as she had ever seen. It had polished black marble floors, a huge entryway with at least four security guards and a lobby that could fit a hundred people comfortably. Brienne felt underdressed simply by walking into such a place. Everyone was dressed lavishly and even the bellboys looked stuck-up.

It was then that she felt grateful for Tyrion’s presence. She had no ability to barter with anyone, especially in such an elegant environment, but it was part of his nature. They were so hurried to get to their destination that he did not even talk before flashing his credit card at the young woman in the reception, whose eyes flew open upon reading his name.

“Mr. Lannister,” she told him with a look that suggested she wished she had picked a different shift, “Please follow me. You are expected.”

They were led to a private elevator that required a special key to function. It was cylindrical and transparent, its buttons delicately carved in opal. They descended at least three floors, and at some point an aquarium surrounded them completely. She could see fishes of all colors swimming around them, orange, bright blue, yellow. It was as astonishing as it was terrifying.

It was not just the elevator, either. When the doors opened, they noticed the aquarium enclosed the entire room. It was not a big room; most of the space was occupied by the glass boxes in the center that housed at least twenty different snakes. The receptionist told them she must return to her desk and left them there. It was dark; the only light came from the water. A shark passed by their heads once or twice, its big, scarred body taking Brienne’s breath away.

“I don’t like this,” she told Tyrion, though her discomfort was palpable.

“Let’s just get what we came for,” he whispered. Shae bit her lip in nervousness. “Hello?” he had the courage to yell at no one in particular. “We’re here!”

They spent minutes without any kind of response, the clock ticked and ticked and half an hour was gone. They sat on the floor from exhaustion, drained by the strain of the day and their ineffective walk down the strip. The blonde gazed at the snakes in the glass, slithering among the tree branches, their forked tongues appearing and disappearing in an almost spellbinding rhythm. Their skins glimmered under the light of the aquarium, seemingly damp and elegantly covered by their scales. She felt her eyes grow heavy, her eyelids close, her troubles melt away…

A door slammed open.

“Don’t like to be kept waiting, do you?”

The woman who regarded them was even more masculine than herself. She was dark skinned and big-boned, thick with muscle and her face was harsh and menacing. She wore camouflage pants and an olive t-shirt, and her hair was tightly bound in a bun at the back of her neck. It was not hard to see she carried a gun in her belt, so they would have no chance to try anything sudden with her, even if they had wanted to.

Her voice was deep. “We don’t, either. And we’ve been wasting our whole day expecting you to show up. That better be our drugs.” She gestured at the briefcase with her head.

Tyrion lifted it in the air with a nod. “Obara Sand,” he replied, recognizing her face. “We have something of yours, you have something of ours. Let’s make this exchange as easy as possible.”

The other person she had spoken of appeared behind her sister, but they could not look less alike. The girl was slender, gracious, with an angelical face, blonde and blue-eyed. “Oh, but of course,” she said in a sweet voice, “but surely you don’t expect us to hand over ours before checking the case…” She flitted her eyelashes with a smile. “Let us see it.”

The dwarf hesitated. She was about to open her mouth to tell him to do it, that they stood no chance against them, Sansa and Dany’s faces in the back of her mind, but before she could speak he slid the case toward them. She was convinced he had noticed the gun as well.

The time it took for them to check it felt like hours to Brienne. She wanted to hear the girls, know they were okay, the anxiety invading her. Then she thought of Jaime and felt a rush of distress run through her; in their haste to get to the hotel she had forgotten to call him and she had never checked her voicemail to find out if there was anything new.

Once the women had studied the case to their satisfaction, they both stood. “Bring him,” the bigger one told the blonde, who disappeared behind the door they had used to come in.

“Him?” she and Tyrion spoke at the same time, baffled.

The silhouette of Theon Greyjoy greeted them, gagged and bound hands and feet. The blonde pushed him toward them harshly, causing him fall to the floor as he lost his balance. His face had a few cuts and scrapes and his nose was bleeding.

“We took a little bit of his pinky finger for every hour you made us wait,” Obara laughed, her black eyes dancing. “We were right about to start with his _other_ pinky, so you should thank these fellows for showing up, elsewise you might’ve never fucked another woman.”

Confusion spread across her features, a sense of impending doom released into the atmosphere as they realized they had followed the wrong path. _The girls_ , she thought in anguish, _where are the girls?_

Tyrion helped Theon get up and Shae freed him of his ropes, but the man was too shocked to say anything. The dwarf looked at his face, then at Brienne’s concerned expression, then back at the Snakes. “What was your entire purpose behind this game?” he asked them finally.

Her heart beat harshly, wanting to ask about Sansa and Dany, but there must be a reason Tyrion had not mentioned them. To protect them, maybe? So they would not hunt them down as well?

“Game?” The blonde gave them a look full of innocence and hurt at the accusation. “We were playing no games. All we did was take something of yours because you took something of Obara’s. That’s all we did.” Her eyes were glinting with innocence. “And now you got him. So you can leave Sunspear.”

Obara added, “And needless to say, don’t come back. No lion can survive the bite of a snake.” She smirked. “Especially not a cub like you.”

“We’ll leave,” Brienne assured her. She was unable to contain the question any longer, tired of the day, tired of their search and their failure. They had to be involved. There was no other trail to consider. “But we need to know where the girls are.”

It was then that the elevator doors opened with a ring and she heard someone calling out her name, but it was difficult to recognize the voice due to the echo and the ideas racing through her head. She turned to find Jaime, followed by Sansa, Daenerys, Margaery and Robb. Her eyes flew open, now more confused than ever at the image before her.


	16. 307-314 - Heir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 15, Chapter 16 ]  
> Song: The Smiths - How Soon is Now? ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUMh8GQnDW8))

**307-314  
** (Heir)

The office was a hurricane of movement that morning. Everyone was at their desks, the phones were ringing off the hooks and only two reporters were out for the day. Brienne felt extremely grateful to have Podrick as her and Hunt's shared assistant, managing their calls and meetings and arranging their schedules.

Brienne sat with Hunt in the audio-visual office, rewinding a play from the latest soccer game of Lannisport FC. "See, that's what I mean, the way he curved the ball is very reminiscent of Brandon Stark. The goalkeeper had no chance against that shot. There's at least fifty meters right there and the barrier was useless."

"I do agree with you," he replied, "but I think there was also a foul on the barrier that the referee ignored. I still the arbitration in this match was way off."

Brienne nodded. "It was. Raff the Sweetling’s foul should have earned him a direct red card." She typed another paragraph into her laptop. "Dunsen as a midfielder lacks coordination. Their season is not getting better anytime soon if Polliver doesn't recover from his injuries."

"Okay, so you got this down? I'll focus on the alignment, you focus on those three specific plays," he wrote something down on his pad. "Now, about that dinner with Forley Prester tonight, if you can make it, I'll cover for you tomorrow and you can take the day off."

Brienne started thinking about her plans for that night, but she could not remember if Jaime was working late or if she had planned an evening with the girls. She had been too engrossed in the previous night’s match since she got to work. Before she could come up with an answer, Podrick stepped into the room.

"Sorry to interrupt," he told them, looking slightly more uncomfortable than usual. "Ma'am, your… um… Your husband is here."

It was puzzling, to say the least. For all their time together, Jaime had not yet visited her at work. When they met for lunch they would just show up at the restaurant or she would pick him up, so the chance had not really come up. She wondered what could be so important for him not to call first.

"I’ll be right back," she told Hunt, who simply grinned with his eyebrows raised.

He was waiting at her desk, standing and looking at nothing in particular. A few of her coworkers were looking at him curiously. They knew she was married and surely they'd heard it was to Jaime Lannister, but some of them might not have believed it up to that point. Or maybe they were just staring because he was as well known as any other public figure in the city.

When he turned to look at her, his expression paralyzed her. He was shocked, to say the least, looking disheveled and fidgeting with his cell phone nervously. Understanding that whatever happened must be serious, she pulled him by the arm toward the empty conference room and closed the door.

"Are you okay? What's going on?"

The words took forever to come out, his gaze sinking and his breath ragged. "My father is dead."

–––

Deciding whether or not to go to the funeral was a crossroads for Brienne. She knew Jaime would need the support, especially without Tyrion present, but Cersei would be there and that might generate unnecessary drama that could make things worse for him. At the end she had decided to go and put on a barrier around her against the woman's snide remarks, if there were any. She wore a simple black shirt and dark grey pants, while Jaime suited up.

The ceremony was miserable, to say the least. Cersei had wanted something magnificent to honor his life, she had wanted to invite every investor, distant family member and important figure in the city, but Jaime fought her on it for two entire days, insisting that the situation was too dire and it would not be right to draw any more attention with their brother gone.

So at the end it was just the two of them, Cersei, Jaime’s cousin Lancel and his uncle Kevan, who looked as lost as a man stranded in the desert. Her friends had offered to come as well, but Jaime had just grunted at that and she decided to let it go.

At least the lioness had been relatively tame; though her attitude remained angry and disdainful, she had refrained from making any distasteful comments. The only thing she had done was roll her eyes at her and purse her lips when she arrived, and Brienne had made sure to keep a safe distance at all times.

Jaime did not speak a word during the entire service, so it had fallen on his uncle Kevan to give the eulogy. She thought he might as well have been talking about another man as he spoke of family values and higher education and one of the greatest minds of his time. To her, Tywin had been ruthless, ambitious and unconcerned for his children's happiness, contradicting every value she had ever been taught as a child.

After the burial, Jaime spent the entire weekend in bed, barely getting up to go to the bathroom and nothing else. She had stayed by him, cooking meals he did not eat, forcing him to drink enough water and doing what she could to make him feel less lonely.

However much he would tease her, she and Hunt had become something similar to friends. She knew it when, without hesitation, he offered to cover her during any number of days she needed, turning to Podrick for support, which she knew would benefit the young boy as well.

Monday came and went in much the same manner, though at least he finally agreed to eat some of the food she brought up for him and took a long warm shower, but he was still speechless and numb. It worried her so much that she wished he would just break down and cry or throw things or be angry, feel something, but he would just lie down and stare into space.

Cersei’s calls to his cell phone were relentless; she would call in the morning, at noon, at night, she even called their home phone twice, though Brienne knew better than to pick up. Jaime did not so much as look at the screen, the epitome of disinterest. She could not even begin to imagine the chaos that must be overtaking his office, the workload that the employees were facing, the PR disaster of finding the company without his single most important figure. Though it should fall to all three of his heirs to manage the pandemonium, only Cersei and his uncle were present, right in the eye of the storm.

Brienne held Jaime’s hand when he would let her, stroke his hair, sleep beside him at night, though she knew he had not slept in days. She would wake up feeling his agitation beside her, and sometimes she would turn on the TV and pick a show he liked to distract him, even if it was the middle of the night.

By Tuesday he was so spent she wanted to do anything to wake him up from his slumber. "Jaime, please talk to me," she told him finally, "I can't see you like this anymore. Please eat. For me?"

He said nothing, but he did agree to eat his breakfast begrudgingly. Eventually he felt motivated enough to pick up the newspaper that she left on the kitchen table, but all he did was read the news about his father's death, the speculation about Lannister & Co.’s future, the distress of the investors, and she immediately knew that it had not been a good idea to keep the paper so close at hand. The news changed him. He grew restless, searching for everything he could find online, sticking the TV on CNN for hours and watching report after report, biographies and all kind of morbid programs about the legacy of Tywin.

That night when he saw she had woken up in the middle of the night, he moved against her with hesitancy at first, as if asking for permission, without ever saying a word. Brienne let him guide her into the rhythm he wanted. He was gentle enough, but she could still taste the anger and frustration in his kisses, and he could not bring himself to look into her eyes once. There was nothing for her to say, she could not begin to imagine what he must be feeling to lose his only living parent in the world, especially a figure as imposing as his father. However, if anything, it had made her feel relieved that she could do anything for him – it was the first night he slept at all.

The next day, when she woke up, he was fresh out of the shower and throwing on his suit. Usually his early alarm would wake them both, and since she started work much later than him, she’d get up and make breakfast and read the news, but the alarm never even rang.

"Are you going to work?" Brienne asked him, rubbing her eyes.

"Yes. I may be late."

She nodded. "Jaime, about Tyrion…"

He shook his head. "I can't talk about my brother right now. I just can't."

Before leaving, he made sure to fasten the straps of his prosthetic hand. _You don’t need it anymore_ , she wished she could say, _he won’t make you wear it._ But she remained silent and simply watched him leave.

–––

Brienne felt like she needed a fresh breath of air after she left work that afternoon. She had managed to catch up with half the work she had missed; Pod had been extremely diligent with his notes, saving her a lot of replays. She was tense the entire day, checking the screen of her cell phone every twenty minutes, wondering if Jaime would call, asking for anything, but he never did. At 6 PM he sent a text saying he would effectively be late, so she headed for Margaery and Sansa’s apartment. They received her with coffee and freshly baked cookies.

“Tell us how everything is going,” Sansa started, pouring the coffee in her cup as they sat in the kitchen table. “How’s Jaime?”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, as if she had been containing it for days. “I can’t get him to talk. I’m really worried about him. He’s not sleeping or eating… But today he left for work.”

“That’s good,” Margaery told her, sipping her cup, “It should help keep him focused and move on.”

“I’m not sure. He _did_ work with his father... I can’t imagine the mess at Lannister  & Co. right now. And Tyrion…”

Sansa almost dropped her cookie at the mention. “I had forgotten to ask you! What happened with him? Do you know anything new?”

“Tell us the whole story,” Margaery added.

Brienne shook her head. “I’m not sure about the details… He won’t talk about it.” She bit her lip, in serious need of venting. She knew Sansa and Margaery were trustworthy, so she continued, “It’s just… Tyrion found out something about his father, something related to his ex-girlfriend Tysha, and he got extremely angry… Apparently he told him he deserved to die. That was only a week before Tywin’s death, and there were a lot of witnesses…”

The girls’ expressions became resigned at her words.

“And well, I don’t think they have any suspects yet. All they know is that it was an ordered hit. But Jaime’s cousin… she convinced someone at the Night’s Watch that it was Tyrion. I don’t know how. I guess she has proof.”

Margaery scoffed. “That shrew doesn’t need proof for anything. She has pull. Does she have it in for Tyrion?”

Brienne paused for a moment to think. Evidently Cersei was not her favorite topic of conversation with Jaime, so her interactions with Tyrion were a puzzle to her, but she did recall her brother-in-law making certain comments about her not having too much appreciation for him, and vice versa.

“They don’t get along, as far as I know.”

The brunette nodded. “There you go. I’m guessing she didn’t have any other suspects and made Tyrion take the fall. Two birds with one stone; it puts a face to search for and martyrizes her father, all in one stroke.”

Sansa looked skeptic. “But that’s worse. He’s a Lannister. It makes the family look bad.”

Margaery shrugged. “When she has it out for someone, she’s relentless.”

Brienne had to admit it made a lot of sense. From the way she had seen the woman react in many opportunities, she could tell she was as impulsive as Jaime, if not more. “I would believe it,” she said finally, “I don’t think Tyrion is capable of murder.”

“Do you know where he is?” Sansa asked her, picking a cookie from the pile. “I mean, Jaime must know. He wouldn’t believe those accusations.”

Brienne’s expression became doubtful. “I think maybe he does. He’s really angry about it. As far as I know, he has no idea where Tyrion is. I would imagine he left Westeros immediately after finding out about the manhunt, it all happened so fast… He probably headed for Essos.”

“So we have no way of helping out,” Margaery concluded, finishing her coffee. “That sucks. I wish we could do more. What about his girlfriend?”

“She disappeared the same night he did. They probably left together.”

“But she seemed so… well… detached,” Sansa said, “She didn’t look to me like the kind of girl who would make any sacrifices. I think she was with him for the money.”

“She _was_ a stripper,” Margaery added.

The blonde felt like the story just kept getting more complicated. It was the way of Lannisters, always one plot on top of the next, and the current had dragged Tyrion downriver. She hoped Jaime would not follow suit, even if she had to be the one to anchor him to shore.


	17. 100 – 8:00 PM – Jaime - Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 17, Chapter 18 ]  
> No song for this one. I know I updated yesterday, but I decided to post the next update before jumping on a plane.

**100 – 8:00 PM – Jaime  
** (Girls)

As soon as Jaime hopped off the cab and headed for the lobby, he made a list of things to do in his head. The first was to check all their rooms in case anyone had arrived, which was quick and useless. He stayed in Tyrion’s, though he could probably call it his at this point, stepping over the white feathers and slumping down on the half-made bed.

He pulled out his cell phone and started searching for all the popular places in Sunspear that could be related to the code TV620, but it was extremely slow going. He had been at it for half an hour when he heard a pair of familiar voices down the hallway.

“Must be there,” a woman’s voice came, “… of them.”

They spoke quickly and loudly, approaching his door and then continuing on their way. He ran to open it and found Margaery and Robb outside, checking all the rooms just as he had recently done. “Hey, they’re not around,” he told them. “I just checked.”

They came into the room with a resigned expression. “We got nowhere, either,” the girl informed him, “We must’ve checked at least fifty clubs, asking about them, but it’s really hard for people to notice anyone in detail. Even showing them pictures brought nothing to mind. It’s like they vanished.”

“Well, we discovered a message on Brienne’s cell,” Jaime replied. “It said TV620. I’ve been checking all kinds of places on my cell to see if anything comes up, but it’s not a lot to go on.”

Robb looked pensive. “I’d say the letters matter most. Are there parks or squares or something of the sort in this city?”

“No squares. There’s the Nymeria Park, it’s the biggest,” the brunette said, “but the letters don’t match. I don’t think there are any squares. And in any case I think those might be bad places for a drop-off. They’d need something more private.”

“How about a hotel?” Jaime suggested. “Or a venue, maybe.”

“The Martells own a hotel called The Spear Tower. Once more, doesn’t seem close to the letters TV. And venues… Well, that would be a big search.”

Robb shook his head. “Someone from here should be able to narrow it down. We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

As they walked out of the room, a maid passed them by with an alarmed expression on her face. She had probably walked by their room several times during the day, always with the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the door, and now the three of them were walking out, looking disheveled. _She must think we’re on some sex adventure_.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Robb called out, “We just need some information.”

A few questions made them reach the conclusion that the woman was too old to know the current club scene in the city. The next employee they found was a bellboy, much closer to their age. Jaime was about to slip him a bill when Margaery flitted her eyelashes and smiled, lightly touching his arm. It didn’t take him longer than five minutes to recite the places he knew. Only two of them had matching letters: The Vale and The Vixen, but he told them the latter was more of a dodgy bar than anything else.

Ten minutes later they were rushing through the lobby, when Margaery looked back to say something to Robb and crashed against a woman, falling on her backside on the floor. “Hey, watch it!” she yelled.

When they looked up, it was none other than Daenerys rubbing her arm where Margaery hit her. “You!” almost all of them yelled at the same time, drawing the attention of the other guests. Margaery scrambled to her feet and wrapped them in a tight embrace, but they looked completely puzzled at their reaction of relief.

“Where in the world have you been?!” Robb shouted at Sansa, “We were worried sick!”

Sansa and Dany exchanged glances. “You were worried sick? _We_ were worried sick!” the silver-haired girl told them. “You were the ones who were tripping!”

Sansa sighed. “The briefcase,” she told them with urgency, “we need to get the briefcase to the Snakes.”

“You know about that?” Margaery asked, astonished. “We thought they were holding you for a drop-off! Brienne, Tyrion and Shae are out looking for you with the case!”

Even though Jaime was completely confused by the situation, his first instinct was to pick up his phone and call Brienne to let her know the girls were okay and ask them to head back to the hotel so they could figure out the next step, but she did not pick up. He left her a voicemail and tried Tyrion as well to no avail.

“They’re not picking up. I don’t know why. We need to know what happened to you.”

They sat in the restaurant as the girls devoured everything they could get their hands on and drank big gulps of water. The first part of the story was going well enough, matching what they already knew; they had gone to the barbecue at the Water Gardens and were left behind when Jaime and Brienne left in the limo, the case missing.

Dany and Sansa had rushed to call a cab and head back to the hotel to clear up the situation, but as soon as they got there they were called by the woman on the reception with an urgent phone call. They did not have to decipher any elaborate codes, though, a rough female voice had simply said, “The Vale in forty minutes” and then hung up.

“We didn’t know what to do, we checked all the rooms and no one was there. We didn’t have time to check any other place because the clock was running. We thought they had taken you two, so we jumped in the first cab we found and showed up at the club. It was completely cramped,” Dany explained, “we could barely even move in there. But then a hand pulled us into a back room. It was a very big, very angry woman.”

“One of the Sand Snakes,” Margaery told her.

“She asked us about the briefcase,” Sansa added. “Over and over. We told her we didn’t have it, to please let us know if you guys were okay, but we had barely even begun talking when we heard shots fired outside. The woman fled so fast we didn’t register it, and five minutes later we were in handcuffs. It was a Night’s Watch raid.”

Jaime listened intently, a dozen questions in his mind.

“Then what?” Robb asked.

“They locked us all up along with everyone else at the club for questioning. It took hours and we didn’t even get a phone call until they were done with the interviews,” Dany replied.

“When we were finally allowed to contact anyone, I called Jon,” Sansa told her brother, “He talked to Mormont and did everything that was necessary to speed up the paperwork. They tried calling you guys at the hotel rooms but no one was picking up the phone.”

Jaime shook his head. “Wait a minute. Brienne called the police station asking about all of us. That’s how they found me. Why didn’t the cops give her your names?”

“An active Night’s Watch investigation,” Robb replied. “The information is not public.”

“You were in jail?” Sansa asked in surprise.

“Oh, it’s a long story.”

Margaery shook her head in exasperation. “We keep going in circles. You thought they had Jaime and Brienne, we thought they had you two. So who are we looking for, then?”

Their faces were blank until Dany said, “I think I heard the woman command someone to ‘bring him’ before the gunshots, but I’m not sure.”

Robb’s eyes flung open in realization. His hand went straight to his phone, checking his messages and calling a number, but there was no response. “Theon.”


	18. 100 - 10:00 PM - Cloaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 17, Chapter 18 ]  
> Song: [The Seatbelts - The Egg and I](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6N1_GJAyFw) (Yes, I love Cowboy Bebop).

**100 – 10:00 PM  
** (Cloaks)

“We found the girls!” Jaime exclaimed, though at this point he figured it was obvious enough. Then he noticed the other women in the room and Theon’s beat up face. He would give a lot for an explanation of what was happening.

When Jaime had received Tyrion’s half coherent message letting him now that they were headed there, the entire group had rushed to meet them, not entirely sure what led them to The Spear Tower. The woman at the reception had escorted them to a private elevator with a slightly puzzled expression, mumbling ‘Lannisters’ to herself.

Daenerys and Sansa were even more tired than the rest of them, they had not even napped during the entire weekend, so they didn’t even have it in them to ask any questions. They were still wearing their bridesmaid dresses, now stained and slightly ripped. Margaery waited to see what happened, studying everyone’s expressions, while Robb pulled Theon back and checked his wound, ripping his shirt to make a tourniquet for his finger.

Finally Tyrion replied through clenched teeth, “We can see that. We kind of have a _situation_ going on.”

The blonde woman raised an eyebrow. “Seems to me like your little group is reunited. Ready to go. Away from Dorne.”

“What about my finger?!” Theon exclaimed in despair, grasping his hand tightly.

Obara chuckled. “It will be a reminder of what happens to the lion’s friends in the desert. We’re keeping it as a souvenir.”

He was about to protest once more, but Robb kicked him on the shin and dragged him to the elevator. Margaery followed close. Brienne had thrown her arms over Sansa and Daenerys, who returned the hug eagerly in spite of their exhaustion.

“We’ll go,” Tyrion said finally, gesturing at Shae to follow him. “I’m sure not a single one of us means to return to this thrice-damned desert.”

–––

By the time they arrived at the hotel, it was 11 PM and the place was full of life. To everyone else, the party was just getting started. Jaime wondered how many of the groups walking out with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces would end up like them, forgetting an entire night thanks to a round of drinks and acid.

Robb and Theon headed straight for the hospital. Jaime felt it for the guy, while at the same time thinking he should be thankful all he had to regret was half a finger. He had known the Sand Snakes to take a lot more for lesser offenses, so the only thing that spared him was the fact that they were willing to pull the lion’s tail, but not its mane. There was also a big chance that Doran Martell had gotten the Snakes under control after finding out that Daenerys was involved; their business with Targaryens went back many generations, so he would never condone any action that would jeopardize that, especially now that she was the heiress.

All the stories had been told and everyone had caught up when they walked into the lobby. Sansa was half awake, having dozed off as soon as her head hit the seat of their cab. They all stood there, as unlikely a group as he could think of. He had never found the chance to change out of his suit pants and white shirt, and Sansa and Daenerys’ dresses were as battered as they could get. Brienne wore her simple gray shirt with pink gloves, the one he gave her, that always made him laugh. Margaery was the only one who was remotely decent, in a pair on jeans, sandals and a dark green halter top. Tyrion and Shae were both still in their outfits from the previous night, but Tyrion’s still reeked of seafood with a hint of vomit from his stay at the hospital.

If someone had told him eloping would be this much work, he would have never believed it. In order to avoid Tywin’s wrath they had been at risk of poisoning, running into traffic, incarceration, a criminal record from a federal investigation and even gelding in Theon’s case. He started laughing when he glanced down at his hand and remembered he had no ring on. They had not even gotten married.

Brienne stared at him curiously. Laughter poured out of him like a stream, he wanted to explain why he was cracking up, but he was almost breathless. The absurdity of their trip dumbfounded him. “We’re not married,” was all he managed to get out.

Even sleepy Sansa laughed at that. Passersby stared curiously at the group, some with a certain disgust at their unkempt appearance. The only reason security did not throw them out, he guessed, was that the woman from the reception had recognized them. It was to be expected, they had probably wandered around the hotel more than any other group in its history.

“The cloaks are still in the sept,” Brienne remembered, “we left them there when Margaery told us about the security tapes.”

He and Tyrion looked at each other instantaneously. Tyrion reached into one pocket of his suit, then the other, pulling out a red velvet box with a grin. All the girls understood the signal, including his fiancée.

“Now?” she asked him. All he did was nod.

The sept was empty but for the septon they were meant to meet the previous day. The man was shocked to see them. “Were you not the ones I was meant to marry last night?” he asked them with a hiccup. “You’re about twenty-four hours late.”

“Dorne,” Dany replied on their behalf, and it was settled.

Miraculously enough their cloaks were still in the closet, including the golden lion pin. Margaery and Daenerys stood on the steps, Sansa beside Brienne, who once more wore the cloak with the embroidered sigil of her house. Tyrion stood next to him and Shae sat on one of the benches. The altars of the Father and the Mother were right in front of them, worn out by the years, but no less imposing. They must have seen endless weddings, for drunk and sober couples alike, and an alcoholic septon for a certainty. He noticed they were seven, not counting the septon, which he found strangely amusing.

After some slurred words from the old man about the responsibilities of marriage and its many sacrifices, the time came to switch Brienne’s cloak. A small feeling of guilt plagued him as he took it upon himself to remove it, wondering if she missed her father. It should have been him doing it.

He unclasped the lion pin using his hand and his stump with a slight difficulty, but she waited with patience. A grin appeared on his lips as he read the letters on her shirt. _I’d better remember she hits like a boy_. Sansa received her cloak and Tyrion handed him the crimson one. He felt his heart skip a beat as he fastened it around her shoulders, feeling perhaps for the first time the weight of the obligation he was assuming. She helped him close the pin with trembling fingers and he stole a gaze that told him how nervous she was. ‘Every bride is still a dreamy girl inside’, he heard his aunt Genna say once. For all her stature, Brienne certainly fit the pattern. Once the cloak was securely wound around her, Jaime grasped her hand in reassurance. Her bright eyes regarded him with affection and warmth.

She cleared her throat before speaking, her cheeks reddening at the words. “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my husband.” Tyrion handed her the golden ring and she placed it clumsily on his finger. He could hear Sansa sniffing beside her friend.

“With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my wife.” He placed her ring on her finger next to the sapphire he had given her.

For all their nights of passion and almost indecent kisses, their first kiss as husband and wife was shy and brief, feeling like they were in the spotlight.

The septon lifted the small crystal in his hand with a badly disguised hiccup and continued, “Here in the sight of gods and men, I do solemnly proclaim Jaime of House Lannister and Brienne of House Tarth to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.”

Sansa’s sniffs intensified and their friends finally cheered as the ceremony ended. Brienne blushed and hugged each of their friends as they offered their best wishes, while Tyrion simply shook his hand. “Congratulations and good luck, brother,” he told him with a grin, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

–––

It was morning by the time all their things were packed and ready to go. Brienne had woken up extremely early to call animal control so they would deal with the snakes, and Jaime had helped her change the flat tire as the sun rose. Daenerys ended up crashing in Sansa’s room after being unceremoniously kicked out by Margaery so she and Robb could resume their activities from the previous night. They were the only ones with any drive for it; Jaime and Brienne had decided to declare the limo ride their official wedding night because they had both actually believed it was at the moment (and because with their level of exhaustion they hadn’t even managed to take off their clothes when walking into their room).

Tyrion and Shae were taking a flight back to Kingsland, along with Robb, Theon and Margaery, where the Northerners would catch another plane to Winterfell. It was seven in the morning when they left. Dany and Sansa slept in opposite sides of the back seat, still exhausted from their ordeal. The roads were so empty by then that an hour after parting they were already approaching Yronwood, which meant that jumping from highway to highway they might reach Kingsland before sunset.

Brienne had been driving at a steady seventy miles an hour for a few minutes on a deserted road when she noticed Jaime stirring in the passenger seat. He had dozed off as he talked to her about the hot dogs from their hectic night, if only to keep her awake. Fortunately she had brought two big cups of black coffee with her, foreseeing the possible downfall of her companions early on.

He placed his hand softly on her thigh, shaking off the last of his dreams. “Sorry,” he excused himself, “Tired.”

She nodded. “I’d be the same. It’s okay. I’ll ask Sansa to trade with me in Yronwood.”

Brienne felt the grin on his face as he spoke in an amused tone, “So much for eloping.”

She sighed. “I think your father will still kill us.” Their official marriage certificate, signed by the hotel’s notary, was safely hidden away in her purse. She was also happy to know that authorized copies were immediately sent to their city of residence. _Not everything that happens in Sunspear stays in Sunspear_.

Jaime stretched on his seat, yawning openly. “Ah, but you heard our dear septon,” he said in a mocking tone, “cursed be the one who comes between us. Plus he’s still away from Kingsland, so I think it will take a while for him to find out or act on it.”

When they got out to stretch their legs and refill the tank in a gas station, Brienne went into the convenience store to buy more coffee and a newspaper. She was just walking outside when she ran right into Dany as she made her way back to the car. “Sorry!” she told her, shocked. “I think I might be having a vivid nightmare.”

“What’s going on?” the silver-haired girl asked, peeking at the front page. There was a small note on the side with the title LANNISTER HEIR ELOPES IN SUNSPEAR. Brienne almost dropped her coffee, so Dany turned the pages until they reached the full feature. Both Jaime and Sansa approached them when they noticed their stunned glances.

The photograph had been taken right as they passed by the hotel’s lobby on their way back to their rooms. It left them speechless from its grade of absurdity; the state of their garments, Margaery’s casual clothing, and Brienne’s ridiculous t-shirt fully turned toward the camera. She could see the words ‘I hit like a boy’ following her around until the end of her days. The only thing that enraged her more than the existence of the article was how handsome Jaime looked in the picture. “You can’t look ugly even in one stupid photo,” she reproached him.

He just threw a charming grin in her direction.

“Well, at least now I agree with you,” she added with a sigh, “So much for eloping.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one last Dorne chapter to go. Feedback is welcome! See you Monday!


	19. 99 - Sunspear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 19, Chapter 20 ]  
> Song: Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Warrior ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rk_Mmtl8vqM))

**99  
** (Sunspear)

Bags, and bags and more bags. Brienne wondered how her friends could possibly need so many things for a simple weekend. Her legs were cramping from the infinitely long drive; they had been forced to get up at four in the morning to make the most of the day on the road and arrive at the hotel in time.

Of course it was not her idea to put herself through the ordeal, but Sansa had insisted that they absolutely bring the car. There was no way the dress would survive the trip any other way, it was too delicate to be handled by airport employees, and a million other things that she had not even bothered to hear, knowing she would lose the argument.

So all four girls had traveled down, taking two hour turns on the wheel so the others could rest. Road songs had been sung, junk food had been eaten, the gas tank had been filled half a million times, and the last part of their trip was quite dull, exhausted from the boring desert road.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, they barely had an hour and a half to get ready before the ceremony. They were unloading the suitcases from the trunk of the car when a well-built young man had approached them and Sansa jumped into his arms. They had the exact same hair color, similar facial features and blue eyes. “I’m so happy to see you!” the girl exclaimed. “I didn’t know if we’d actually meet up.”

He smiled brightly at her. “We’d been planning a weekend out here for a while and we had the day off yesterday,” he told her. “You’re looking good, sis.”

“Girls, this is my brother Robb,” Sansa told them, “and that’s his friend Theon.”

A lean, dark-haired man nodded at them with an impish smile.

Margaery shook Robb’s hand, releasing her signature Up-and-at-‘em stare. “How nice to meet you,” she told him. Brienne was sure the poor boy was going to end up smitten in less than two hours time, from the way she smiled shyly while her eyes were suggestive of something else.

Just as she was unloading the last suitcase and handing it to the busboy, Daenerys started yelling and pushed her into a run, Sansa following close behind. “What’s the matter?!”

“It’s the groom!” Sansa exclaimed, rushing her to the elevators. “He can’t see you!”

Both her and Sansa played the role of human shield while the elevators arrived. She could hear Jaime and Tyrion’s voices chuckling in the distance. “You do know we have to check in first, right?”

“First we hide the bride!” Dany said, “Then all the rest. Otherwise it will give you bad luck!”

“Isn’t that only when I’m wearing the dress?”

“That’s absurd,” the redhead replied as she shuffled her into the elevator’s open doors and pressed the first button she could reach. “He can’t see you on your wedding day. Not until the ceremony.”

Brienne sighed. She almost felt that the best part of getting married would be the end of the endless rituals, plans and superstitions.

–––

“This dress is too tight.” She had to hold her breath just to get Margaery to close the twenty-something buttons on the back. Her bodice might have given her a slight air of having something that resembled a waist, but it would end up making her faint from the lack of air.

“It’s as tight as it needs to be!” the brunette exclaimed in exasperation, “Now stay still!”

Sansa reciting ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue’ in the background, under her breath, was driving her insane. Daenerys poured her some champagne. “Drink,” she commanded.

Brienne shook her head. She was starting to enter some sort of a panic without exactly knowing why. “I don’t feel like–”

“Do you know what happens to brides who don’t drink at least one glass of champagne before their wedding?” she asked her with her dragon-fury stare. “They throw up at the septon’s feet!”

She opened her eyes wide and took the champagne from her as quickly as she could, gulping it down. She glanced at the clock. 6:20 PM, less than an hour. Her hands were sweating and her heart sped up, which did not go unnoticed by Margaery. “Oh, gods, stop sweating, you’re going to ruin your make-up.”

Sansa turned immediately at that. “Not the make-up! It took me too long!”

Brienne took deep breaths. She looked more like a pregnant woman about to give birth than a beautiful blushing bride. The very idea of her participating in something like this made her hysterical. She started laughing until tears came out of her eyes. Her friends stared at each other in confusion, but it gave Margaery enough time to finish the last touches on her dress.

Sansa continued with her chanting, until Brienne grew irritated and complied. “Fine! I’ll wear whatever you want. I already have something blue, the engagement ring. I just need the rest.”

It was then that Dany gave an excited yell, generating a big ‘whooo’ among them. She started going through her purse and pulled out a small pink shopping bag, marked ‘Victoria’s Secret’, to her dismay. It was the sluttiest pink garter she had seen in her life, but fighting was pointless. She extended her leg and let them pull it up to her thigh among cackles. She dare not even move in the dress.

Margaery smiled in satisfaction. “That’s something new. Now you need something old and something borrowed.”

“I know of something Tyrion will give her. That’s something borrowed,” Dany stated.

Sansa smiled brightly. “I got something old. Don’t be mad, but I told my mother about your wedding. Even though she doesn’t like Jaime very much, she was still really happy for you. So she sent you these.” The redhead pulled a box from her suitcase and handed her a pair of gorgeous and very simple pearl earrings. “She wore them at her wedding.”

She put them on and gazed in the mirror. Even in her unattractive face they looked stunning. She felt so touched by the gesture that her eyes were preparing for the waterworks, but Margaery looked at her with menacing eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

Brienne took a deep breath, and another, and another. “Are you supposed to feel like this on your wedding day?” she asked, but her friends had no reply. She was the first to go through the experience. Where was the line between jitters and absolute uncertainty?

She closed her eyes, calming herself down the way she would if she was about to face an opponent. A few seconds later she felt the effects of the champagne, slowing down her brain slightly. She gazed down at her ring, her beautiful blue ring, perched on her finger, reminding her that someone wanted her. Jaime wanted her. So she made herself believe it and came up with the courage to gaze into the full-body mirror. Though she would never be beautiful, she had to recognize Sansa’s efforts with her dress had been worth it. Even in her huge frame it looked feminine and tasteful.

As Margaery refilled her champagne flute and took a sip, someone knocked on the door. Brienne glimpsed a young, pretty blonde who handed her a plate from the room service cart from the corner of her eye.

“Brownies,” Margaery said with a puzzled expression, but simply set the plate on the dresser in front of her. “Let’s go set up the flowers.” She grabbed one with a napkin before she left the room with Dany. Brienne couldn’t help but smile; the girl would not eat a carb if it came and hit her on the face, so she was surely going to offer them to a certain attractive young man when she spotted him.

Sansa added some finishing touches to her hairstyle as the blonde chewed on a brownie, forcing her mind to focus on positive thoughts, Jaime Jaime Jaime, his green eyes and his smile and his kisses, pushing away the negative thoughts, his father, his cousin, the Lannister name. Ignoring her regrets altogether, my father is not here, my father is not here, my father is not here.

She was only halfway through the snack when Sansa gasped in alarm. “What are you doing?!” she asked, horrified, “You’re going to get that stuff on your teeth and your make-up is already done!”

Brienne sighed for a last time, feeling like a little girl about to enter a pageant, being reprimanded by her mother.

–––

“So we just sit here and wait?” Jaime asked Tyrion, adjusting his tie, the final touch of his black tux. He was already done with his attire, his shoes shining and his hair neatly combed.

“Well, yeah, pretty much. It takes five minutes to throw on a suit. Unless you want me to ask Shae to put some pretty make-up your face.” He drank from his can of beer. “Aren’t you anxious?”

“Why would I be anxious?”

Tyrion snorted. “No reason. Just tying the knot for the next sixty or so years of your life.”

If he was not feeling anxious before, he was starting to. Why would he bring that up? They had gotten through so much trouble to get where they were now, all the plans about eloping, all of Brienne’s friends orbiting around her making sure everything was perfect, picking the hotel, finding the cloaks.

“Are you _trying_ to scare me off? If Brienne heard you, I think you’d get a black eye for your big mouth.”

Tyrion shrugged. “Just asking, that’s all. It’s the best man’s job.”

Shae came out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go. Then Tyrion’s attention drifted and he was left alone with his new thoughts. It _was_ the rest of his life, he _was_ promising her protection and security and love every day, every month, every year. He started counting in his head. One year, 365 days, multiply that by ten years, that was 3650 days of making her a very, very happy wife or getting a few punches for his trouble. Then multiply that again by six…

He got up and left the room to walk off the idea, subconsciously loosening his tie. Everything was fine. If anything, it was Brienne who should be scared of marrying him, who knew what his father would do when he found out. He had thought this through, he really had, there was nothing else to worry about…

Sansa’s brother Robb passed him by on the hallway and gave him the brownie he had in his hand, looking slightly concerned. His friend Theon was standing by the elevators, talking to a slender, black-haired woman who was leaning against the wall with a sassy smile.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Nym,” he was saying. “So what are your plans for tonight?”

Jaime smiled to himself and he could have sworn the woman had stolen a fleeting glance at him as he passed by. He consulted his watch and headed down to the sept, wishing his bride did not go missing. If she felt half as nervous as he did, she might make a run for it while her friends were not looking.

_You’d better show up, wench_ , he thought as the elevator arrived. _We couldn’t have come all this intricate way for no good reason_.


	20. 415 - Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 19, Chapter 20 ]  
> Song: Weezer - Say It Ain't So ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wdpSFQTulo))

**415  
** (Call)

The rain, wind and fog sticking to his window were making him angry. It felt too much like his internal world, making the task of avoiding his current situation particularly difficult. He was sick of watching TV and sick of listening to his iPod and sick of reading pointless articles at the Kingsland Journal’s website. All he could wish for at the moment was for sleep to take him for hours so that Monday might come soon, bringing along the meetings, the contracts, the lunches with clients, the bartering with investors.

His glass of whiskey was empty by now, maybe as empty as him. It made him want to laugh, or cry, or both. It was Tyrion’s last bottle. Before moving into the hotel, he had gone to his brother’s apartment, wondering if he should just stay there instead of letting the place gather dust. Tyrion had picked a two-story apartment over a townhouse when they moved out of the Red Keep, telling him that it was a much better place to bring girls, giving the impression of less commitment and more harmless fun. Jaime had snorted at that, knowing that he could not give any less of a fuck where to take any girls. All he had wanted back then was to spend as much time as he could with Cersei, no matter where, and for about three months it had been everything he hoped, until she grew bored and fickle and distant, shoot after shoot and contract after contract.

So Jaime had picked his townhouse, for all the good it did him.

It drove him crazy to have someone cleaning up after him every day, to come to his room and find it spotless, every object in the room neatly placed in its designated space. He disliked the meals and disliked the obsessive concern of the hotel employees over his satisfaction, offering everything and anything to make him comfortable, knowing who he was and the position he now occupied.

Most of all, he hated his empty bed.

It’s not like he hadn’t tried to call her. His life consisted of a string of moments tied together by his evenings sitting in front of his cell phone, two sides of him arguing and always the pride winning the battle. He could not, _would not_ call her. If she thought him such a terrible character, he would gladly play the role. Their last encounter had driven him to an edge, of what, he wasn’t sure, but the one clear thing was that she had been the one to send him away, so the least she could possibly do was to be the one to seek him out.

But much like hers, his cell phone didn’t ring. He closed his eyes and tried to picture what she was doing. He would stare at the clock and remember her routine and the shows she watched and the games she would have to report. Jaime even came up with the willpower to watch an entire baseball game, imagining her retorts at the sportscaster, her cheers at the Direwolves’ runs, her curses when the Felines scored. But then he got angrier, imagining Hunt’s damn satisfied face, having her all for himself during their workdays. He could have laughed at the absurdity of it, being jealous of him, being jealous of even Pod, wishing he could have the least bit of attention from his wife. His _wife_ , for crying out loud! Who the hell knew where she was or what she was doing.

 _This marriage is going real well_ , he thought to himself, seeking to drink the very last drop of Tyrion’s whiskey, altogether hating him too.

He had lost count of how many bottles that last one made in the past week, and had to stifle a laugh when he imagined the shit Brienne would give him if she could see him. She would tell him he was going to screw up his training, slow down his muscle growth, make him lose coordination and focus, blah blah blah. It amused him to do things that would make her mad even though she would never find out. The previous night he had bought and smoked his first pack of Marlboros in over six years – not counting the one during his wedding night – just to feel the satisfaction of how much _that_ would piss her off. He was only a smoker for a few months back when Cersei went through her teenage rebellion phase and pressured him to do the same, but still he had sat and smoked one and the next and the next until he felt sick and threw the rest in the toilet, washing off the taste with more whiskey.

It didn’t really matter to him. He was not training at the moment, steering clear of the gym where he would undoubtedly draw stares with his fucking stump, wishing he could sneak back into his garage to use their very carefully assembled gym, but he was too sure he would end up sneaking into the bed instead and she would gladly shorten him by a head with a kitchen knife.

She could not be this stubborn. It had been three weeks of this damn punishment, all because it had been so easy for her to shove him in the role of the villain, while wholeheartedly ignoring his best efforts to find a middle ground for everyone involved. He wished some part of his life was not falling apart, but he had so many things to pick from that it was almost laughable. His father, Tyrion, Lannister & Co., Cersei’s back and forth, Brienne, Brienne, _Brienne_.

Two days after he moved out, she told him she would help him – on an e-mail, no less. That’s how much respect she had for him at the moment. She had told him about the plan, about the conditions, about the timing for everything, she had confirmed the flights and the wiring of the money from their secure account in the Iron Islands and the dates of arrival. And not one single word about him, about them as a couple, not a single comment about their current situation, but a simple display of how business-like and detached she could be when she wanted to. That was the last time they had communicated at all.

 _I asked this of her_ , his brain insisted of reminding him, _and that is what she gave me_. _This is just the price I’m paying_.

He shook off the thought, just like he had done for months, always reaching the same conclusion: she does not understand. The pressure and the responsibilities were too much, and he was carrying the weight all by himself, half-supported and half-screwed by Cersei’s actions. It made him resent Brienne in a way he never had before, and he had allowed himself to dwell in it, unable to find a viable solution for their problems. He had resented her lack of interest in getting involved, in just trying to put herself in his shoes for once, trying to see the big picture, but she would be so easily distracted by the smallest details, always so attached to her honor and her loyalty. And when the time came for her to be on his side above every other, she would be so ambivalent that she’d try to swim in both directions, agreeing to help him while also turning her back and asking him to leave.

His heart almost jumped out of his chest when his cell phone rang on the nightstand, but it was not his wife’s face on the screen. Much the opposite, really, it was his cousin’s. He debated whether he should pick up or not, wondering what she could possibly want from him so late on a Saturday night. As far as he was concerned, she did not know yet that he was not living at home. Or did she? Cersei was the kind of woman to monitor every matter of importance to her, and from the kinds of insinuations he had received from her lately, he had started to think that she was not just seeking him out for business anymore, but he had a lot of trouble reading her. She had been influenced by too many new people in the game, too many players that he was not yet able to pinpoint, so he was not sure what kind of plot she could have in mind at the moment.

_What’s the worst thing that could happen?_

Just as he was about to pick up, his eyes focused on the light reflected off his wedding ring, and he let it go.


	21. 363 - The game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 21, Chapter 22]  
> Song: Chevelle - Until You're Reformed ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKl5U3tDgos))  
> All chapters from here to the last one are chronological.

**363  
** (The game)

“Taena Merryweather has no idea how to do the job. She doesn’t even have a degree.”

“She does, too. She went to college in Myr. I trust her.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Look, Cersei, I know you don’t like the Tyrells, but Margaery’s cousin Megga–”

She cut him off with a frown on her face, standing from her brown leather chair. The phone was ringing, but she pushed a button with far more strength than necessary and it fell silent once more. “I’m sick of listening to that, Jaime, no, no and no! Those stinking roses are getting nowhere near our company. It’s bad enough that they’re investors and get to have an opinion on our decisions. I won’t have them skulking about in my hallways.”

He raised an eyebrow. “ _Your_ hallways?”

Cersei threw her arms in the air in exasperation. “You and everyone else are expecting me to fail just because I’m a woman! But I’m as much a Lannister as the rest of you and I’m also entitled to this company!”

Jaime was at end of this rope. He had no idea how else he could possibly make his stubborn cousin understand the direness of their situation. Their stock was dropping since she had taken the reins of the administration, and their contract with the Martells was flaky at best. There was too much tension between the investors, and the new personnel she was hiring to advise her were as absurd a group as he had ever seen.

“You’re a _model_ , Cersei!” he yelled, unable to contain his thoughts any longer, “You didn’t even finish college because you were too busy fucking Robert Baratheon for a cover shoot!”

She huffed. “So this is all about that, isn’t it? You can’t tolerate to think that I was with someone else, so you’re taking it out on me! Well, too bad, Jaime, you missed your shot.”

He could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “I’m married, remember?” he spat at her, “I don’t give a shit who you invite into your cunt! But I will not stand by meekly while you drive this company into the ground!”

The blonde slapped him, but he barely even felt it. “How dare you?!”

The words he had been keeping to himself for weeks poured out, one by one, sick and tired of everything in his life, of every moment being tainted by darkness, despair, feeling like a rat trapped in a maze designed especially to drive him mad. “You think you’re cleverer than all the rest, but everyone is trying to screw you over and you don’t even see it! You hired an insurance with a trail of malpractice suits because you like Aurane Waters, you hired Taena because she kisses your ass but you have no idea if she’s under a different company’s employment, you passed on the opportunity to have uncle Kevan settle all this damn business and you sent him back to the Rock!”

She groaned, anger seeping through her pores. “Kevan was being difficult. He must have found out about us, maybe he even thinks we’re still together! What in seven hells did you want me to do?”

“He’s not the one being difficult, _you_ are. He told you he would handle this. All he ever asked was that you handled the Rock. It would have given you the opportunity to learn the ropes before taking on something as complicated the Kingsland offices!”

“I won’t hear it again!” she said finally, turning her back on him and grasping her glass of wine in her fingers with such strength he thought it might break. “Leave!”

He made sure he slammed the door of her office behind him as hard as he could. Maybe then the glass walls would shatter and the void would swallow her whole. He cursed her, he cursed his father for dying, he cursed his uncle for leaving. This was too much to handle for him. Decade after decade the company had risen, every year welcoming new investors, at every turn expanding their area of expertise, buying over weaker businesses and turning them into giants. All of it thanks to Tywin, his resolve, his merciless nature and his ability to see things to the most profitable end.

Jaime was as disgusted as he was tired. Every part of his existence was torn between him and the Lannister name, the legacy and the present, what he wanted and what needed to be done. He wanted his brother to be here more than anything else in the world, but he was probably getting tanned in some beach in the Narrow Sea, while he rotted away in the most dog eat dog setting he had ever stood in.

Tywin had made sure that his children grew up understanding the importance of diplomacy, how to get to know the enemy’s weaknesses and exploit them. He had either thrown or attended every single social event that might come up in order to introduce his heirs into the difficult atmosphere of a power struggle, getting to know all the biggest families and the advantages they presented. The Tyrells, the Redwynes, the Tarlys, the contacts in the Night’s Watch who owed him more than one favor, the Freys with their greedy nature and inexistent morals, the Boltons and their monopoly over drug trafficking in the North under a carefully assembled façade as the greatest knife manufacturer in the continent and beyond.

He shut the door to his office after telling Peck, his assistant, to hold all his calls. He turned his cell phone off so he wouldn’t be disturbed and slumped down on his chair, watching the portrait in the opposite wall intently. It was a hrakkar from Essos, drawn fiercely upon the fields of the Dothraki Sea. He stared into the lion’s eyes, cold and raw, a species that would turn his enemies to dust in two strikes.

Jaime had sat and studied the situation for weeks, he had read contract after contract until his head ached from the difficulty of interpreting the words, invested every thread of patience left to him to illustrate the full picture in the eye of his mind. He had visited every factory, spoken to every small business owner financed by Lannister & Co., had lunch with each and every single one of the twenty most important investors, watching them for possible flaws and making mental notes of what each of them would want to be offered. He could not even recall the last time he had a long meal with his own wife because there was always something urgent, something he had to handle before Cersei could get her hands on it, a new lawsuit to fight or a media scandal that had to be controlled because his cousin was too busy with other tasks to keep a grasp on the company’s PR, which was her only actual job.

It was time to act now. It was time to make a peace, to take control and deal with the situation as best he could, Cersei be damned.

He pressed the intercom. “Peck, call my uncle Kevan. Tell him I’m ready to negotiate a settlement. Also tell Addam Marbrand to come here immediately.”

It took them at least three hours to settle all the details. Tywin had left no instructions for positions in the company, though he had left identical parts to both his sons and Cersei. That meant that while Tyrion was away, their decisions had to be taken equally into account. He had tried every possible way to avoid a war with her; the woman had become far more paranoid than she had ever been, feeling like everyone was out to take her position. Jaime knew it all came from her lifelong insecurities about not being his father’s birth daughter, even if he had always treated her as such, not to mention her insistence that women were always at a disadvantage.

Cersei was unwilling to cooperate, however, so it fell on him to settle every single one of the issues that were coming up. The first thing he did was appoint Marbrand as head of the legal department. His cousin had never taken him seriously and always relied on a foreigner called Varys for the job, but the man was as untrustworthy a lawyer as he had ever seen.

He made all the necessary arrangements to split the company in two main departments so that he could keep his half operational even if Cersei insisted on sinking hers. At the moment he could not demote her, so that was his only way of reducing the damage. He left her to handle the import, export, sales and marketing departments, the most stable at the moment and also enough work to keep her occupied.

Then he set out to close the contracts with the weakest links in the cases where the families had conflicts with one another, organized the payments of the racketeering companies in the South to avoid a gang war, guaranteed Doran Martell full control of their new Dorne offices and liquidated a few lavish properties in the city to pay their astronomical debts with the Iron Bank.

Most importantly, even knowing how enraged Cersei would be by the decision, he decided the funds from selling the Red Keep – her own idea – would go straight into a capital injection to help with their stabilization in the market and raise once more the value of their stock, settling the doubts of any investor who dared question their new administration.

By the time he was done it was already past midnight. He cursed himself for forgetting to let Brienne know he would be late. He was losing count of how many times that made this week; Jaime kept making mental notes of how he would make it up to her, how he would take her out to a cabin in the Kingswood for a weekend or go hiking or even just lock themselves up in their gym to train until their muscles ached, but time kept slipping through his fingers and when he finally went home he was so exhausted he wondered how he even found his way to the bed.

She hadn’t even pushed him or complained at all, but he still felt the tension grow between them, always an unspoken discomfort in the situation. She had been there for him as much as she could after his father’s death and he was thankful that she had not asked a single thing from him. The distance kept growing, however, their lives splitting; Brienne’s way of dealing with his absence was to take longer shifts, to the point where sometimes she would come home by the time he left for work at six. They would say their hellos and goodbyes and go about their way like roommates.

A feeling in his gut told him it was not right, none of it, but he had no energy left to deal with that particular side of his life while all his patience was being drained by Cersei day after day. She had thrown on a mask of coldness and nonchalance after he got married, but he knew it must be killing her inside, otherwise she might not have gone through the trouble of somehow letting the Sand Snakes know they would travel down to Sunspear, not to mention the convenient presence of whichever paparazzi took their photo at the hotel. Cersei was nothing if not cunning, though. After a few advances he had turned down and Tywin’s death, she had turned the entirety of her attention towards Lannister & Co., her decisions striking him as either unintentionally unwise or a blatant way to draw him to her. He had to admit the brilliance behind it. She knew he would not give into her desires anymore, but he _would_ do anything to keep the company afloat, thus absorbing every minute of his day. The growing distance between him and Brienne was a direct consequence of it, so she would get her way and he would still get screwed.

Jaime gazed toward her office. Cersei had left hours before, while he slaved away reading one more page of a document, one more e-mail, checking mountains of financial reports even though Tyrion was the one meant to handle their capitals. There was a strange feeling in his gut when his mind pondered how differently she and Brienne fit into his current routine. His wife would never put work before family no matter how much she loved being a journalist; the most important thing in her life was duty. But Cersei understood that, since their childhood, family and business had always been one and the same, she knew what it was like to be raised to cherish the company, to be told since age four that their duty was fighting for the prestige and image of Lannister & Co. At the moment he was a dam, struggling to keep the strong current of events from wiping away what his father had so carefully built.

He was slightly startled by finding Brienne on the phone when he got home, in spite of the late hour. She was lying down on their bed with her covers up to her neck and her back turned to the door, so she did not notice him coming in.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t call before. I had no idea you were watching the news,” she was saying. “Yes. He took care of it.”

Jaime stepped closer and placed his hand on her shoulder to let her know he was there. She seemed surprised and stopped talking immediately, but a few seconds later she went on, “We’ll talk tomorrow. You should go to bed. I love you too, dad.” She hung up.

“How come you’re talking to your dad this late at night? Did something happen?”

Brienne placed the phone on the bedside table. Her movements were slow and awkward, and it took her a long time to reply. “I called you today. Many times.” Her tone was strange; it was contained, as if she was angry but refused to let it show. “Peck said you were in an important meeting all day. It doesn’t really matter.”

His stomach turned, though he was not sure why. “Brienne, tell me what happened.”

She sighed. “Some fans got too intense today at the soccer game. There was a scuffle in the stands that got out of control. Hyle and I were in the first seats of our section, so it should’ve been easier for us to get to the exit, but people panicked and started pushing. We were caught against a wall and I hit my head. But I’m fine. I went to the hospital just in case,” she assured him. “I just called so you wouldn’t worry.”

Her last statement had a slightly cynical tone to it, but he might just have imagined it. He was in meetings with so many different people all day that by now he must be hearing threats and warnings and requests underneath every phrase. He approached her and turned the lamp on to examine her. She had a small bandage on the back of her head. He clenched his teeth, berating himself for not telling Peck to let her calls through. How could he be so careless?

“Did you drive there?” He lifted the bandage slightly. She had no stitches, but he saw a bump and a small cut when he separated the strands of her hair. “You shouldn’t drive…”

She looked away. “I didn’t. Hyle took me there, then to the drugstore, then here. Pod brought my car back. And the paper’s giving me the day off tomorrow.” Brienne pulled her head back and settled down on the bed. “I’m fine. You should go to sleep. It’s late.”

He sought her hand between the sheets. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’ll stay with you tomorrow.” He kissed her shoulder, but she did not stir. “I’ll push my meetings.”

She finally turned to look at him. The look in her eyes was tired, but honest. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. I know you can’t push your meetings if you’re working sixteen-hour days. And I get that you need to set things right at the office. I’ll call Sansa and she’ll keep me company if it makes you feel better.”

It didn’t. And she _was_ right. One day of missed meetings would probably scramble his entire week. It was temporary; hopefully in a few weeks he would get the help he sorely needed and he’d be able to spend more time with her.

“I promise I’ll be around more, soon enough,” was all he could say, but he had been repeating those words so often that they were starting to feel eerily similar to lies.


	22. 393 - Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 21, Chapter 22 ]  
> Song: Yeah Yeah Yeahs - No No No ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdOKL547V3k))

**393  
** (Pressure)

“I need to tell you something,” he told his wife, even though little by little she had started to feel like a stranger. “And you can’t tell anyone. Legally speaking.”

She gave him a puzzled look, closing her laptop and turning around completely to watch him from the chair in their dimly lit dining room. “Are you sure I need to know, then?”

He nodded. “My family depends on this.”

A sad smile spread across her lips. Though she said nothing, he knew he had made a mistake by choosing those words. For all intents and purposes she was his family now, but his head insisted on clinging to his Lannister name. He could not apologize now anyway; it might break his resolve.

“I found a certain incompatibility in some of the contracts I was checking today. I dug deeper until I was looking at documents from over a decade ago. My father’s.” He cleared his throat, aching for the words to come out, to end this bitter task. “It’s Daenerys.”

Brienne seemed even more confused. “What about her?”

He took a deep breath. “Daenerys owns a third of Lannister & Co. through the Targaryen inheritance. That’s more than me or either of my siblings individually. But my father buried the documents when her parents so conveniently died.”

She opened her bright blue eyes wide in shock and tried to speak, but nothing came out, so she just sat with her mouth gesturing in the air.

“It means Lannister & Co. has sold more shares than it actually owns. All of Daenerys’ shares were sold to more cooperative investors when the documents went missing. It’s a financial catastrophe.”

Brienne finally replied, “Why would you tell me this?”

He sighed. “I need you.” He leaned in front of her and held her hand. “I need your help fixing this. Cersei doesn’t know that I found out, but she does know about the shares. That makes her an accomplice, possibly facing jail time. The only way for me to solve this is with Tyrion’s help.”

She frowned, baffled by what he was saying. “How could I possibly find Tyrion?”

He shook his head. “Not you. I need you…” the words felt so heavy in his mouth he felt like he might choke. “I need you to ask Margaery and Daenerys to find him in the Free Cities.”

“That’s crazy, Jaime.” She pulled back her hand and got up, pacing around the room, still shocked by the request. “Why don’t _you_ go?”

“The Night’s Watch is tailing me, and you as well, most likely. They’re sure he’s going to reach out to me. I can’t risk it. If Tyrion comes, we’ll be able to make the decision. Two votes out of three. I need Daenerys to go because she’s been getting closer and closer to the trail now that she’s taking control of her assets. And I need Margaery because the Tyrells have the kind of undercover contacts we need to find Tyrion. I can’t use the Lannister’s. I don’t trust them. They might be hers.”

She covered her face with her hands in exasperation. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me? The position you’re putting me in? Not only can I not tell her about this, you’d actually make me _use_ her?”

Jaime could feel the anger rising in him. Of course he understood. He had wanted this to be his last resort, but there was no other option at hand. No one else he could trust. And no matter what, he had to keep Lannister & Co. unblemished above all things. _It’s the family name that lives on_ , Tywin said in his head. He had worked too hard, put too many hours into this for it to explode in his face. Too many moments missed with his wife, too many fights, too many sacrifices for nothing, it had to be worth it.

“I have a plan,” he told her finally. “To tell them, so they’ll help out. You won’t have to think of anything.”

Her offense was palpable. “I have everything to think of, Jaime! They’re important to me! Daenerys has been nothing but a true friend and now you want me to lie to her face? I can’t get involved in this.”

“Well, I can’t do anything else!” he spat out, rage pouring out of him. He could not understand why every single moment people had to question his motives, while he was doing everything he could to keep from sinking. “You’re already involved. I’m sorry, but LT Oil is already an asset of the company. If you’re not willing to do this for your own husband, I bet you’ll do it for your precious little island.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Are you saying these words?!”

“I’m very damn well saying these words, Brienne! There’s nothing else I can possibly do!”

“You could start giving a fuck about everything else! You have forgotten that I exist and I’ve let you, you stopped calling to tell me you’ll be late and I let you, you’ve stopped sleeping here and I let you because I’m always making excuses for you, but I can’t do this anymore!”

He threw his arms in the air angrily. “It’s not my fucking fault my father’s dead!”

For the first time since he had met her, she gazed at him with spite written in her eyes. “I’m not so sure he is. You play the role all too well.”

The brick wall he had built around himself to get through the last weeks shattered mercilessly at her words. It was then that Jaime understood the depth of his father’s control over him, even beyond the grave, because only one half of him was offended, while the other had felt proud that one day he might fill his shoes. He could have laughed bitterly, understanding how day after day power corrupted and destroyed everything he believed in.

She headed to the entrance, clearing away the angry tears that clouded her eyes. Her tone was almost desperate. “Maybe you should just pack up and leave. I’ll be back in an hour.” She closed the door behind her, car keys at hand.

He almost felt disgusted at himself when the one thought that crossed his mind was, _What about finding Tyrion?_


	23. 429 - Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Over the Love by Florence + the Machine ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5AllYPIBbhw)).
> 
> I have an eerie feeling that I'm going to get strangled in my sleep for this chapter, but oh well. It was my favorite to write in this entire part of the series. (Yes, I'm bad). It's also the one I'm most nervous about... Have fun?

**429  
** (Ghost)

Thirty-five days Jaime was gone.

Not that she had wanted to count them, she had not, but after having his sleeping figure on the bed beside her for so long, every night without him seemed cold and harsh. Her life had gone on, at least professionally speaking. Brienne had taken her empty house as an excuse to spend as many extra hours as possible in the office, always with a new article to write, ideas to research, plans to make, offering to cover every and any kind of game, even in sports she disliked.

Her depression had been so palpable that even Hunt had given up his efforts to tease her. Podrick worked with her as little as necessary, probably feeling like a burden. She had not wanted to drive him away, truly. It was Brienne who dragged him with her to a game a few months ago to cover for a sick photographer, and his natural abilities with a camera had caught her eye. She had been the motivator, always getting him to enroll in courses, taking him on the field with her, teaching him the fundamental aspects of the day’s game.

When Daenerys and Margaery left, she had not gathered the courage to tell them that Jaime was all but moved out. She had to pay for her part in it, even if it meant being more lonely than ever now that she had grown accustomed to the company. Sansa had thought it was a useful trip for her as well, working in fashion, it would be fascinating to visit the Free Cities and assemble as many rare fabrics as she could find for her new collection. Loras and Renly had supported her in the idea.

Jaime’s plan had been more elaborate than she imagined, but only because she knew what lay underneath. Everyone in their circle knew that Tyrion was being investigated for murder, and her friends agreed that the claims were absurd. So far so good. Daenerys had not been hard to convince; she was the closest to Tyrion and she could take as much time off as she needed without any hassle. The problem was Margaery, though they got along just fine, she was too involved in The Golden Rose, her family’s newspaper, to just pack up and leave for a prolonged amount of time.

So Brienne had stuck as close to the truth as she possibly could. “We’re being tailed,” was one of the reasons, which was true. “We can’t hire anyone from Westeros to investigate, it’s too big a risk,” was the other. Daenerys had sweetened Margaery up by offering to establish an interview with Daario, her ex-boyfriend, whose band was really taking off across the Narrow Sea, and possibly an exclusive contract for shoots and inside information. Evidently the silver-haired girl would do what she could to have company on her quest.

That was half of it, but the other half consisted on something much harder in order to release Margaery from her duties; something had to be offered to Olenna in exchange for one of her most important figures in the company. Jaime had needed to sign a document that forfeit the monopoly Lannister & Co. had over the commerce of livestock, vegetables and canned goods inside Kingsland and its satellite cities. The Tyrells’ most lucrative business had not been able to expand to the city because of it, even though the quality of the products from The Reach was world-famous. It would boost their profits dramatically and probably screw the Lannisters over in the process, which was fine by her.

She had insisted that yes, of course Jaime was doing it just for his brother, while feeling disgusted at herself all along. She never thought she would have to give up her morals for her marriage, forsaking loyalties for vows, all of her honorable causes contradicting each other and chafing her raw.

Only a couple of days after he left did she realize the absurdity of her own request. If anything, she should have been the one to leave; it was Brienne who could not stand to look at Jaime, seeing his father in every move he made, feeling like he grew further and further away from her as time passed. But by then he was already gone with his best shirts and suits and his things, he was gone with his ambition, he was gone with her broken heart at his side.

New Year’s was the hardest day, coming so close to calling him so many times, but always falling short. There was a force inside her that tugged at her heartstrings, pulling back from him, unable to face the situation, seeking desperately to occupy her mind with something else, dwelling in overtime and reading and running outside until her legs were cramping, avoiding their own gym that held too many memories. All she had to do every day was look forward, tell herself it would be just one more day, while shushing the voice that told her _he’ll call today, he’ll open his eyes_.

Then the blame crept into her, telling her she should have tried harder, she should have given him a chance, she should have let him grieve for his father any way he needed to. She would fall into such a guilt trip that she’d cry in the shower, thinking of what ifs, maybes, dead possibilities orbiting around her mind. Her self-defenses would react by reminding her of every elaborate dinner that went cold, every night he showed up at 2 AM without a phone call, Peck holding her calls in spite of being his wife, going to the hospital and being unable to reach him at all, wondering what could have happened if it had been serious.

And _her_.

Thinking of her caused her an emotion she had such a hard time grasping that she’d immediately head for the garage, memories be damned, and hit the sandbag until her knuckles were swollen. Every punch would be a day that he was away, a day that he would not come to see her, while working with _her_. Then came the kicks and the tears that she would convince herself were drops of sweat falling from her forehead, coming from a part of her that she would never admit existed.

It was the thirty-sixth day when she heard a key sliding through the front door, at that point feeling so strange that it managed to scare her and make her rush down to see if it was someone trying to break in.

His eyes were remorseful, awkward, worn out. When she gazed at him her stomach turned, it had been too long, too many days without seeing that face, without staring into those eyes, sleeping in a cold bed. Yet she still resented him as much as she loved him, she still felt enraged by his actions as he went through his ghastly metamorphosis, embodying Tywin time and again.

She stood at the entrance, trying to find something to say and failing. Brienne wanted to tell him how much she had missed him, but she also wanted to punch him for turning her into nothing more than just another pawn in his game. He said nothing, either, just watching her eyes with longing.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, looking up at her with his chin dipped, a gesture that was very unlike him. _This is odd…_

“Are you okay?” was all she could think to ask.

He sighed deeply. “I need you to sit down.”

–––

“Did you sleep with her?”

Brienne held her head between her hands. Her eyes had no more tears to cry, they had all dried up on her flushed cheeks. One of the chairs in the dining room had fallen to the floor in Jaime’s haste to get up. The table was a few inches away from its usual place, from when Brienne had pushed it away as she screamed at him.

It took him too long to reply. Everything inside her was crushed. She felt so hollow she did not even know if she cared anymore, but there was an urge of self-destruction inside her that asked her to absorb more, and more, and more, that invited her to plunge into the depths of his darkness to abhor him as much as she was capable of. To end it, to stop the madness.

“No.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

 _Too long, it took too long_. “Did you want to?”

He was silent then. Her blood rushed to her head in a bout of exasperation and fury. “So you did. Why didn’t you? Are the vows too heavy?” She stood up, pacing around the room, throwing her hands up in the air. “They’re too heavy for you to sleep with her, but not heavy enough to want her?”

He approached her as calmly as he could, reaching out with his hand. She moved out of its way and did something so rash she did not even realize it until it was done. She threw her engagement ring at him, with sapphires like her eyes, and said those terrifying four words, “This marriage is over.”

–––

“You just don’t give me the slightest bit of credit! How could you possibly believe I was threatening you?!”

Brienne looked away at his accusations, but her tone of voice remained neutral. “You told me if I didn’t do what you asked for you, I’d have to do it for Tarth. Is that not a threat, Jaime, really?”

He shook his head angrily, his teeth clenched, his brow furrowed. “I wanted you to understand what we stood to lose!” He kicked a chair away from his path as he paced around the living room. “I wanted you to understand what I needed to save!”

“But you didn’t care to save _us_ ,” she whispered, and his green eyes flared.

–––

A pitcher and two empty glasses sat on the otherwise clear kitchen table. Brienne poured water in them again. The derision in Jaime’s face told her he thought they needed something stronger, but she was not in a mood to care about his opinion, and after a month living on her own there was no beer to be seen. It wasn’t her drink of choice.

He drank it in big gulps and placed the glass in the sink. She _did_ need to come up with the capacity of caring about what he thought. It was what the conversation was about, after all – trying to see both sides, but at the moment they saw neither. The gaps were too big, the weight too crushing, the frustration overwhelming the slightest glimmer of understanding that deigned to materialize before them.

With a frown Jaime pulled her ring out of his pocket and set it on the table. She felt a pang of regret at her actions. No matter how angry she was, it was reckless of her to let words like those escape her lips. If nothing else, she took vows and commitments too seriously, and there was no bigger one than her marriage. But when it came to his cousin, everything became so much more complicated, a maze where she was thrown without food or water, to wander about for days on end without really knowing if there was a way out.

She did not touch it, but she did not push it away, either. Her eyes focused on the sapphire, shining with the hopes and dreams and naiveté of a girl from a distant past. _You do not belong to me_. Her mind insisted on torturing her, drilling glum thoughts into her psyche, thoughts she had believed to be hidden in the shadow. _Always to her, always to the ghost and never to the real thing, all you want is to live for your dreams, and I am not the stuff of dreams for anyone_.

–––

“I just wanted… I needed to talk to someone who could possibly understand the weight of it. The weight of the name. The weight of having to live up to _him_ , having to figure out what he was doing, what he wanted for our family. All that sacrifice had to be worth it. I wanted to do right by everyone.”

Brienne huffed. “Weight? You want to talk to me about the weight of names? Why don’t we discuss LT Oil, then? Don’t you dare talk to me about sacrifice.”

He stood and reached for his briefcase, still sitting at the entrance, where he had dropped it. He pulled out a folder with a piece of paper printed in the official Lannister & Co. stationary and handed it to her in silence. She took her time to read it, line by line, and he waited with all the patience he could muster. Reading legal documents still gave him headaches, even after more than a year, so he would give her a chance to catch up.

When she was done, she looked up at him with apprehension. Her eyes ran over the last few lines once, twice more. “How did you manage this?”

“Money. Influence.” But she knew that. What she really wanted to ask was, ‘Why did you do this?’, but she was too defensive at the moment to say it, so he continued, “This was a priority for me, even if you don’t believe me. It took me a lot of work to find the right engineers, to set up the teams, to draw up the documents. But I made it.”

She looked once more at the small letters, still unbelieving of the contents. “You found people willing to declare that the oil was not pure enough to be worth the investment. That it would be so expensive to refine that the profit margins were too low?”

He nodded. “LT Oil will be dissolved, branded as a failed venture. Your father will get his shares in cash and this whole business will be done with.”

“Did she agree with this?”

“Cersei’s far enough from this project not to know what it entails. She doesn’t know you’re involved, and she didn’t dig very deep because it was not yet active. Her attention was on the assets that were already generating profits. She signed a document leaving the decisions concerning LT Oil to me.” His now steady left-handed signature was at the bottom of the paper.

For the first time in the entire night, there was a hint of life in her bright blue eyes.

–––

"I just can't understand how we got here," Jaime told her. His head ached and his voice was hoarse.

"You wouldn't talk to me," she replied.

He fidgeted with the cushion on the couch, his legs resting on the coffee table. Brienne had chosen to stand instead of sitting beside him. "You wouldn't ask anything of me." It was infuriating for him to admit to himself that he would sometimes get so carried away by the immediate that he would lose sight of what mattered in the long run. It made it so that he would have to be awoken from that involuntary slumber, but she refused to execute her right to do it.

Brienne sighed. "I wanted to give you time to grieve. To do whatever you needed to move on. I didn't want to force things." She looked out the window of their living room into the darkness. The street was deserted. He wondered what she truly longed for; asked himself if they had ever known what they were doing at all.

"I didn't know what else to do. I had to fight."

Her gaze did not move. "I didn't know what else to do, either. I thought you'd want space."

He couldn't help but huff out his irritation under his breath. "I think pushing me to move into a hotel was too much space."

She turned abruptly, her brow furrowed. "I didn't push you to do anything. I was angry and I didn't think things through. Just like you were when you brought up Tarth. I waited for you to come back, but you didn't."

His tone became indignant when he uttered his reply, "You could have called. You could have asked."

"I don't want to have to ask, Jaime. I only want this if you want it. I can't demand things from you."

He groaned and stood, unable to keep calm any longer, no matter how hard he tried. "You have to ask, Brienne, I can't be a mind reader, you're my wife!"

"Yes." Her tone paralyzed him. She sounded so skeptical that his heart skipped a beat right then. _Does she think we're playing house?_

"We rushed into this," he said firmly. It was nothing short of a statement; a sentence that had hung over the air for weeks, but neither of them had the courage to express while it crept closer and closer to both of them, peeking from a corner. He did not mean to hurt her, but they sorely needed to be honest if they intended to get somewhere.

Brienne nodded her response. Her features were clouded by hopelessness.

"That doesn't mean we can't be together." He walked towards her. "We have to talk. I can't guess what's in your head. You have to let me know."

She bit her lip and looked away. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "I think it sucked that you weren't there for me when I needed you. I hated that you didn't call on New Year's Eve. I wanted to call, too. I missed you."

"I hated that you didn't choose to be on my side. I hated that it was so easy for you to believe the worst of me. I hate that we've been married for almost a year and you still treat the Lannister name like a curse." He brushed his fingers against hers softly. "And I missed you more."

He reached out and kissed her lips softly. He always had to be the one to make the first move; it was a necessity for her, an unavoidable part of her character. Whereas Cersei always waited for him to approach her out of a need to establish dominance, Brienne sought it as reassurance. She didn't push him off, though she didn't claim a kiss of her own. He let it go. Maybe he should try not to be greedy while they stood on quicksand.

–––

“You can’t even say her name!”

She shook her head, unable to stop the tears streaming down her face, her judgment clouded, her heart close to bursting.

“You won’t face this, Brienne, we can’t move on with that elephant in the room!”

“Cersei!” she exploded, “Cersei! Cersei! Cersei! Does that make it easier for you? Does that make you happy, to torture me with this?”

He sat beside her. For some reason relief was finally starting to appear on his features, whereas despair was all that could be found in hers. She could not possibly understand how this would help them move forward, if anything, it was making her angrier.

Jaime had the boldness to hold her hand. She was so stunned by the gesture that she did not pull back. “She’s just a person. You have to say her name, because she’s just someone else, someone out there. You’re threatened by her to the point where this is the first time you’ve even said her name in gods know how long. You’ve made her into this mythical creature in your head.”

Brienne smiled bitterly. “You come here and tell me the two of you kissed and then reproach me for feeling threatened?” It was so funny she could laugh, but all that came out were tears along with her sardonic grin. “Your logic astounds me.”

He let go of her hand and slammed his fist on the table impatiently. “Can’t you see that you’re my wife?! Can’t you see that I’ve given you everything I’ve had to give?!”

She averted her gaze and remained in silence. His anger was palpable.

“I hated being without you, I hated every day of it! I didn’t marry you to live in some damn hotel for a month! I didn’t marry you to cleanse my fucking palate! This is not some temporary arrangement, this is the rest of our lives, I’m not playing a game here! I married because I wanted _you_! You, as in Brienne, capital B, Brienne, Brienne, Brienne! Not Cersei! So get that through your skull! I can only say this so many times!”

By then the words felt like bullets, there was too much truth to them, there was too much she did not want to see, too much she was not sure she even wanted to believe, regardless of it staring her right in the face. How long had she been keeping that inside herself? That nagging feeling that all she was doing was warming Cersei’s seat for her? She swam in the sea of their life as newlyweds like it was a vacation, she wore her wedding ring and still she behaved like they were in some affair, something fleeting, a nice experience for him to pass the time. Had she been waiting for this all along? Had she been _wishing_ for it, only so her subconscious could be proven right in its distrust?

 _It can’t be that I’ve been this blind_.

But what about the kiss?

It was all too much, too much…

–––

He knew he couldn’t touch her. She would flinch away and it would make things harder. The only way to get through to her was being honest, even if the truth was hard to face. “Cersei has lived with me all my life. Tyrion is gone. My father is dead. My uncle Kevan refused to come back from the Rock. I felt desperate, Brienne. All my life I belonged to him. To his command. He taught me that the Lannister name had to live on.”

No reply; a wall of silence.

Jaime sighed. “She came to me. I swear to you, I did not seek her out. I don’t even know how she found out I was staying at the hotel. She kissed me.”

Brienne stirred underneath the sheets and he understood she was silencing her crying on the pillow. She would do anything not to let him see.

“I… I didn’t stop her, at first. I wanted to forget about all the shit we’ve been through. But then I did.” It was then that could he no longer contain his need to reach out to her. He touched her shoulder softly. “Please look at me… I love you.”

All she did for a response was curl up. Her breathing was ragged. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry about everything. You can ask anything of me except giving you up, Brienne. You’re my wife. I don’t want her. I don’t love her.”

Her frame relaxed slightly underneath the sheets. She was not talking, but she still had not asked him to leave, like she had before. He knew her, every part of her. He knew her silences and the budding forgiveness they contained.

Jaime gazed toward the window. Though the blinds were drawn, he saw a faint light emerging and felt baffled at the sight. When he arrived it was barely 10 PM. They had been at this for over eight hours without any sign of progress in the horizon. Or maybe being able to hold a conversation of this magnitude for so long was better than having nothing to say to each other at all. Maybe this was what needed to be done after so many days of avoidance.

He must be wrong. His mind told him they were getting nowhere, but his gut contradicted it. The way she had screamed at him, his own frustration, their disappointment, the rage and the longing was too much when put together. She still loved him, elsewise she would not have never let so many words slip out of her mouth, to the point of calling Cersei a ‘scheming bitch’ and him so many other worse things. Whatever anyone else might read into it, to him she was a woman of habit, and her first impulse in a confrontation was to draw into herself, guarding her secrets and suffering in silence. That made him furious, but he had grown to accept it. As ludicrous as it sounded, her retorts and insults and visible rage meant that she was giving him enough credit, expecting a response from him, anticipating amends.

And he would make them.

He slid into the bed slowly, pulling off his shoes and dropping them on the floor. His hand searched for hers under the covers as tenderly as it could, and when he found it he slipped the ring back on her finger. She did not resist.

–––

When he woke hours later, she was still sleeping on her side. He got out of bed and after going to the bathroom, noticed her blue eyes were open. They were swollen, as were her cheeks. She caught him staring and did not move and inch, only averted her gaze. He knelt on the floor next to her and ran his hand through her disarrayed hair. She looked at him then, but it felt so distant he might as well have been miles away. It was her walls, the ones he had seen before, centuries ago. She had to protect herself, but he could not accept being the threat. He would not accept living life that way.

Just when he thought it was time to let her be, she whispered, “They made you theirs.”

He felt a pang of shame wash over him. “It’s over. I promise I’m yours. I promise I will never do this to you again. You need to believe me, and most of all you need to believe that this is real.”

She remained motionless, but once more he clung to that silence, running his hand over her cheek. His face approached hers slowly, with the caution of a scared animal in the woods. He kissed her eyelids and brushed his nose against hers, taking in her air, breathing in her life. He had missed her. He had missed having a grasp on her reality, away from the falsehood of the game that had attempted to suck him dry.

But he had to give her time. “Do you want me to leave?”

She regarded him with cold, unblinking eyes. After seconds of consideration, she nodded. It felt like a punch on his stomach, even though he knew the least he could do was stick to her timeline, her conditions, her pace.

Jaime kissed her lips softly, a faint salty taste lingering, and got up to leave. As he approached the bedroom door, he heard her soft, hoarse voice. “Come home tomorrow,” was all she said, and the prospect of a fresh start caused the air in his lungs to feel entirely new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a big-ass writer's block with the next update. It was the ONE chapter I had not written by the time I posted this, so of course it's giving me grief. What was meant to be a single 4,000-word chapter has become 3 chapters totaling 10,000 words and counting. Shoot me now.
> 
> I should be updating on Monday, but who knows. This story is just dragging me along now. >:(


	24. 431-460 - Swimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Swimming by Florence + The Machine ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2pSFd-K4uU)). As always, thanks to all my lovely, amazing, unbelievable commenters and kudoers! Your feedback keeps my heart warm!

**431-460**  
(Swimming)

Moving back into the house felt like starting from scratch. Compromises had to be made on both sides, so they agreed to keep their schedules under control. It felt like throwing on a brand new pair of shoes; they needed to adapt to their feet even if they left a few blisters on their wake.

Brienne stayed on the sidelines while he unpacked the few things he had taken to the hotel and made himself at home once more. It was mid-morning by then, so there was no trace of her elaborate breakfasts anymore. He wondered if she made them just for him or if it had always been a soothing task for her; he knew she had learned to cook when she moved to Highgarden and lived by herself, but he was always under the impression that she put more work into their meals together than those she cooked when she was alone, judging by the leftovers he often chanced upon in the refrigerator.

When he went back downstairs he found her lying sideways on the couch watching a rerun of the previous day’s baseball game. He stood on the stairway, unsure of his next move, but at the end he decided to sit beside her. When she saw him approaching she sat upright and was about to make space for him, but he grabbed her hand gently, sat down and placed her head on his knee instead of the cushions. He sought her eyes with a small smile and she blinked once, twice, before resting her cheek against his leg. A few minutes passed in silence before she looked up at him with her bright blue eyes and handed him the remote.

–––

“No,” she told him firmly when she walked back to the aisle where their shopping cart was parked. “Not again.”

Jaime grinned. “Yes. Our house sorely lacks appropriate refreshments.”

Brienne dumped the carefully sorted bags of vegetables inside the cart. The supermarket was so cramped it was taking forever to finish their grocery shopping. She had repeatedly told him that going at rush hour would be crazy, but he insisted that there was too much stuff they needed to wait until the next morning. Now she knew why he was so insistent (she should have suspected it from the start). “That’s two dozen bottles of beer. I hardly think–”

“You _should_ hardly think. You think too much.” He grabbed the handle of the cart and continued his way down the aisle, the bottles clanking against each other at the motion. “Let’s think less and do more.”

She rolled her eyes, picking up two boxes of cereal, his accustomed Frosted Flakes and her All-Bran. “Last time I had to sit in front of the fridge for half an hour trying to fit everything inside and you were _nowhere_ to be seen.”

“We’ll buy a bigger fridge.”

“It won’t fit in the kitchen.” His smile was so charming she almost melted, so she continued to run the list of things they needed in her head. _Apples, cantaloupe, ketchup_. She paused to take a bag of granola while he kept walking.

“We’ll buy a bigger house.”

“You just want to buy your way out of everything, don’t you?” Brienne told him. “Why don’t you just take one dozen and when we run out, you can get some–”

He stopped suddenly and she crashed against his back. He made no effort to move from his position, his green eyes shining and his lips curling up in a smirk. She couldn’t help but blush, her chest stuck to his shoulder blades, his intoxicating scent greeting her like an old friend. “I…”

The cart of an older woman collided against theirs, bringing her back to reality. Jaime’s attention turned to the lady as she apologized. Brienne stepped back and looked away, unable to understand why she felt flustered. “You know, it’s okay, I’ll make room for them…” she told him, heading for a different aisle while he lagged behind, struggling to untangle his cart from the woman’s. _Cheese, lettuce, strawberries…_ Strawberries made her immediately think of whipped cream. She shook her head, unable to prevent a smile from spreading on her face as some quite mischievous memories struck her. It was all because of Jaime and his vile ways of flirting with her. Anyone who looked at her must have thought her insane. _Get your head out of the gutter…_

–––

Brienne woke early that morning, so lucid that it was hard for her to believe it was barely five. Jaime was sleeping soundly; he was never an early bird, so she tried not to make any noise as she stepped out of the bed and threw on a pair of black workout pants and a blue t-shirt.

Though she could have headed for the garage to train, she liked to see the sunrise during her runs whenever she rose so early. It was a habit she acquired during her days alone, possibly the only positive one. When she went back home a while later, wanting nothing more than to have a go at the sandbag, she saw that Jaime had beat her to it. The music was so loud he did not notice her coming inside. She bit her lip, wondering if she should simply let him have the space to himself.

They had not trained together for a while, long before he even moved out, so meeting there felt like running into an old acquaintance at a coffee shop. He was focusing on his kicks, a trail of sweat running down his neck, the tips of his hair dripping, the muscles of his bare torso contracting whenever he changed sides. _How is it that I’m married to_ that _?_ she wondered, her eyes following the curve along his back, watching his firm legs, admiring his well-coordinated movements. Whenever she heard the sound of his kicks against the sandbag over the music, her heart leapt. It was her favorite sound in the whole world; it meant energy, strength, release. Even Jaime’s scruffy face was inviting, but she still felt so jumpy around him that she dare not suggest anything, though she was not sure what she was even anxious about.

At the end she decided to go up to the bedroom, burying herself in the depths of the closet until she found a wooden box she had put away weeks before. She dusted off the top, smiled to herself and headed downstairs, turning down the music when she walked back into the garage. Jaime was momentarily startled, but then he turned and approached her as she sat on the floor beside the speakers.

“You got up really early,” he told her, slumping down next to her. He was so hot from the exercise that she could feel the heat radiating from his body beside her.

“Yeah, I went for a run… I found a trail where you can see the sunrise and half the city.” She handed him the box.

“What’s this?” he asked, shaking it.

“It’s a gift… Well, it’s a gift from me and Tyrion,” Brienne replied. “It was for you. For New Year’s. We had it made a while ago, long before he left…”

That piqued his interest. “Made? Well, that sounds intriguing…”

He pulled at the ribbon’s tail, untangling the bow that held the box closed. It was made of weirwood, with a lion’s paw delicately carved into the top at Tyrion’s request. When he opened it he was half-puzzled and half-marveled at the sight.

It was a prosthetic hand, heavier than the one his father made him wear to work. Inside there was a far more advanced cushion, developed especially by one of Tyrion’s contacts. The belts were of a more resistant material than his usual elegant leather, and the fingers were shaped as a fist.

Brienne gently held his stump in her hands. His skin was covered in sweat. She wiped it away using a towel that was hanging on the stretching bar next to them, then proceeded to place it on, tightening the belts and making sure the piece was not loose. In his eyes she could see he thought the weight was unusual, but he did not look uncomfortable. She gave it a couple of tugs to make sure it was secure, at which point he became even more confused than before. “What are you doing?” he asked, but she did not reply, instead bringing him his pair of forgotten kickboxing gloves, the ones he was wearing when he won nationals, the ones he used whenever they fought together as partners in college, before the accident. She fastened them both, tying them tightly and smiling when she was done.

“Try it.”

Still unclear about the purpose, he approached the speed bag and threw a few tentative punches. His eyes glinted when he felt the effect. Then she finally explained, “We had it especially made so you could use it to fight. The cushioning is designed to protect your wrist from the impact and the belts are more resistant, to keep it in place. It’s heavier than the other one to make it sturdier, but that should help you toughen up your arm.”

He tried the sandbag next and a huge grin spread on his lips. Her heart leapt when she saw him punching eagerly, though he was much slower than before. He would have to grow accustomed to it once more; using his right arm only for defense had weakened it. She was aching to try him out, almost as much as he must be aching to use it, so she threw on two pads and gestured him to approach. It felt like second nature. They had spent so many hours with the drill before he lost his hand that both of them could have followed the motions with their eyes closed.

“Do you remember? Or have you forgotten all of it?” she teased.

“Of course I remember. I’m a master at this, never forget.” He smiled, getting into position. “I’ve won a fight or two, wench, even against you.”

“Well, you’re looking flabby,” Brienne told him. He threw a jab with his right hand; she blocked it, studying his face for any signs of pain, but there were none. He was too exhilarated. “You’ve had one too many beers and not enough training.”

“It’s not like I had access to the equipment.” Uppercut, cross. “My greedy wife had it all to herself.”

Uppercut, uppercut, a jab with his left. Brienne threw her right arm towards him, then the left, he dodged both and responded with a jab using each hand. The latest one with his right was far stronger than the first. Still she monitored him, almost holding her breath, hoping it would work. The look in his eyes was priceless to her. It was the look of a champion, the look of her fighter. “Double,” she told him, and he prepared. “Double, double, cross,” she almost chanted, “double, double, cross, double, double, cross.” His rhythm accelerated, a punch following her every word. The impact of his punches against her padded hands felt like her heart pumping blood to her veins. “Step it up.” She threw her arms toward him again and he sped up his dodges. “Double, cross, cross.” After a few more punches he laughed, thrilled by the feeling.

It was hours before he was tired enough to call it off. He had worked up a level of energy that led her to exhaustion even though all she had done was defend with the pads. Once they were finished she removed his gloves and his new hand, perhaps taking a little more time than was necessary, her fingers lingering too long over his forearm…

But he did not notice. Brienne knew he must have been singing inside, thinking of the difference this would make. He wouldn’t be returning to competitions anytime soon, but they’d be able to fight again at their full potential. When he stood to leave, still beaming, he looked back towards her, as if waiting for her to join him. “I’ll stay here for a while,” she told him simply, “I want to do some leg work.”

“You know, this…” His eyes told it all. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad it worked. And Tyrion will be, too.”

He stood there, frozen, gazing into her eyes with that glance that made her feel like there was nowhere to hide from him, like a girl playing hide-and-seek, but Jaime always won the game. She realized her mouth was open and closed it, comprehending that her flushed cheeks were not entirely a result of the training.

–––

It was such a beautiful morning that they resolved to go for a run to the park and back, just like they did when they were training for the company’s yearly half-marathon. They had almost an entire week of non-stop rain, so they could not let the weather go to waste.

Jaime continued with his story, “Lancel is so smitten with her. I had to walk out of the room just so I wouldn’t laugh.”

“She can’t be that bad,” Brienne replied. By then they had reached the park and were walking on one of the trails. She was licking an ice cream cone that he’d bought her from a whimsically painted cart.

He grinned. “Can’t be that bad? You have no idea. I’ll put it this way – they call her Doorway Ami.”

“Oh, gods,” she said quietly. “And he’s serious about her?”

“He asked her to marry him and she said yes, so I’m guessing he is.” He drank the last gulp from his water bottle, then threw it in a trash bin. “I think the poor bastard hasn’t heard the stories. They once filmed her at her dorm with three different guys and put it online.”

To her own surprise, her first thought about it was wondering how one could even _be_ with three men at the same time. Spending so much time with Jaime and his jokes had definitely made her less impressionable. “You should tell him,” Brienne pointed out, “he might have no idea.”

“I’ve told him, but he won’t listen. He thinks the sun shines out of her ass.”

“Who knows? Maybe she’ll be committed once they’re married.”

He laughed. “You sound like Sansa.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t, I just think people can change… I mean, you changed.”

Jaime raised his eyebrows with a grin.

“You _were_ an asshole,” she stated.

“So I’m not an asshole now?”

Brienne shrugged. “Maybe. A little. Or a lot, sometimes. But you’re other things, too…”

A drop of ice cream fell on her chin, but just as she was about to wipe it off, Jaime’s face came out of nowhere, nearing hers. She got such a strong sense of déjà vu that she stopped on her tracks and thought he would kiss her, so her instinctive reaction was to pucker up, but he was going for her chin. A crimson blush appeared on her cheeks. He noticed the misunderstanding and tried to make up for it by leaning in for a kiss, but he apparently forgot that she was wearing her Direwolves cap to protect her face from the glaring sun outside. He hit the visor with his forehead, causing him to back down. With a slightly shaking hand and a nervous laugh she removed it while he rubbed his forehead. When they tried again, finally matching lips, her teeth bumped against his. _What is the matter with us?!_ she screamed inside, wondering how this could possibly be harder than their first kiss.

She did not have a lot of time to think about it before a frisbee caught her in the back. The dog that was running after it was the biggest Mastiff she had seen in her life, but from his enthusiasm it was easy to tell that he was a puppy. He jumped against her with so much strength and in such a sudden manner that he knocked her butt-first into the grass. The dog wagged its tail and licked her face until a young woman approached them hastily.

“I’m so sorry!” the girl exclaimed, pulling him by the collar. “I’m still training him.”

“It’s okay,” Brienne told her, getting up with Jaime’s help and dusting off.

The dog happily licked her ice cream, now sprawled all over the ground. When she looked at Jaime she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry from the embarrassment of their now ruined moment, so she coughed loudly and ran. It took him a few seconds of blinking with a puzzled face to catch up to her, resuming their jog back home. _Hopefully we’ll pretend this never happened_.

–––

**> The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: Whatcha doin? :)**

She looked up from the pad where she was taking notes about a man named Beric Dondarrion, the manager of a new football team called The Hangmen. It was a group of underdogs who had managed to climb to one of the top spots in the season, drawing the attention of the media, though their offensive techniques seemed slightly exaggerated to Brienne. Usually Hyle covered that sport, but he was away on vacation, so it fell on her to investigate the man and prepare for their lunch interview at Riverrun.

**> Working**   
**> The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: On what?**   
** > Beric Dondarrion**   
** > The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: !!**   
** > INVESTIGATING Beric Dondarrion. We have an interview at Riverrun. I don’t know much about him or The Hangmen**   
** > The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: Why r u covering football? U hate it**   
** > Hyle’s out on vacation**   
** > The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: :D !!**

She rolled her eyes, thinking if she should organize that measuring contest she always talked about. Not that she was complaining; Hyle had been back on his teasing mode after her mood improved once Jaime moved back in, so she was thankful for the respite while he enjoyed a wild safari adventure in Sothoryos.

**> Gods, get over it  
> The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: What time do u get back?**

She checked her plane ticket. Pod stirred in his sleep, sitting beside her at the airport. Their flight from Kingsland would not depart for another half hour.

**> 4:30 PM. Why?  
> The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: Wanted to take u to lunch**

She smiled to herself. Their interactions had become far more comfortable, but they had mostly consisted of training at their gym, going for runs outside and watching TV shows or sports that they could both tolerate. They had shared meals at home, but they hadn’t gone anywhere else together since their split. She did not even find it so strange up until that point – they usually went out with their friends, none of which were in the city at the moment. They had not even kissed since their awkward encounter at the park. She drew in a deep breath.

**> Like a date?**   
**> The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: Yeah. Made reservations  & everything. Such a letdown, wench**   
** > Sorry. Dinner?**   
** > The Hottest Man I’ve Ever Met: We’ll see**

Was he playing hard to get? Maybe he was angry. This is why she hated texting; you could never see what the other person was doing, their tone of voice, anything. They had been walking such a fine line since giving their relationship another go that every interaction made all the difference. But it was not her fault, anyway, the interview had been planned for three days, so if he had asked with a little more notice, she might have been able to shuffle it around. Unsure of what to reply, she said nothing, and he did not write back.

Her trip went as expected; it took her far longer to fly to Riverrun and back than to have the actual interview with Dondarrion. The man was nicer than she had expected, willing to answer all of her questions extensively and being very patient with Pod. Brienne was glad to bring him with her, encouraging him to ask some questions of his own so he would gain confidence and learn to obtain information that would both be interesting to the readers and contribute something important to the sports fans, while also allowing him to practice his skills with a camera. She did not mind all the wait at the Riverrun Airport afterwards. It gave her enough time to finish her article on her laptop and send it to Garlan for revision, giving her the rest of the afternoon off.

By the time her flight arrived back at Kingsland, she was still wondering what Jaime was thinking. But he was a man of action, she confirmed it time after time, and he would never change that part of his personality. She knew it when she found him waiting for her at the airport with a sign that read ‘wench’, and could not help but laugh at the sight.

–––

He was not a very bright man when it came to romantic gestures, because it was always so much easier for him to express himself physically. But he wanted to do something nice for her today, get her attention, _move_ things along, so he did it, hoping his gift was well received. Though he did not mind hanging out with her like they used to back in college, he was eager to take things further with her. Jaime was finally feeling clear-headed enough to balance out his life; he had arranged his schedule at Lannister  & Co., delegating tasks and dedicating himself only to the most delicate duties. Addam Marbrand had done such a good job handling the legal department that he extricated himself from that area, reducing his focus to any contract that may lead to a close analysis of their shares, the only vulnerable part of the company at the moment.

That meant that he could actually spend time with Brienne, whose own schedule had stabilized as well, per their agreement. Though she was not very familiar with power, he had advised her to use some of the pull she now had with Olenna after Jaime allowed the Tyrells to expand their business into the city. So she had practiced the conversation over and over with Jaime, thinking of the older woman’s terrifying presence, and asked her to hire another journalist to lighten her and Hyle’s load. He was proud of her. Not only was she successful in her mission, she also convinced her to promote Pod from being her assistant to an intern.

When he got home that afternoon and approached the kitchen, he caught her watching him with a shy expression. A huge bouquet of sunflowers decorated the counter. He had them sent to her office, but it was clear this time she had actually enjoyed them, from the way her eyes were shining and the smells that were coming from the room. Of course this time she could not claim it was some territorial move because Hunt was still away, so his stubborn wife would finally have to accept that he’d wanted to do something nice for her.

She was definitely paying him back for it in earnest. He might as well have dubbed it The Return of the Elaborate Meals. The kitchen table was overflowing with food; there were mashed potatoes, warm slices of garlic bread that made his mouth water, blueberry sauce, herbed peas and carrots, a bottle of Dornish wine and his favorite key lime pie from the bakery down the street, but the star of the night was the three-pound roasted pork that she had just taken out of the oven with a smile.

–––

Jaime was dozing off on the bed, watching a pointless TV show about bear hunting when Brienne burst into the room, shutting the door behind her and heading straight for the window. He sat up at the suddenness of it, blinking away his drowsiness, while the blonde discreetly opened the blinds and studied the street.

He directed a puzzled glance in her direction and she approached him cautiously. When she finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper, “They found him.”

His eyes opened wide at her words. “Where?” he asked, matching her tone. He doubted their place was bugged, but with the Night’s Watch you could never be sure, especially in such a high profile case.

“Meereen.” She handed him her cell phone. The screen was split in two; one of the sides had characters that were completely unreadable, while the other displayed the decrypted message. “It’s from Margaery, disposable phone.”

**> 087-7652482: M, S, D OK. T Meereen drinking ass off. Money OK. 2C off track. Joined RW twins. 9 Fl. Home 1W.**

Even after being deciphered, Jaime had trouble reading it, so he waited for her to explain their secret code. “The three of them are okay,” she continued, almost speaking into his ear so she would not need to raise her voice. Her breath was warm against his skin and he could smell her fresh shampoo. It was fairly distracting. “They don’t need us to wire more money. They’ve thrown two crows off track and the Redwyne twins finally reached them. They’ll protect them… Both of them were captains in the army at The Reach for years. They’ll take nine different flights on their way back here and arrive in a week.”

Jaime’s stomach became a knot. They had been expecting this for a long time, but now that he got the news, the risk of their operation became so palpable that he could only hope things worked out. So many factors could be a problem, his brother’s attitude, Daenerys finding out about the shares, Cersei discovering his plans. He felt like they had a bomb ticking right in front of them, wondering if he should cut the red or the black wire.

–––

Brienne was taking a bath that night. Jaime could hear it from the sound of the water splashing when she lifted her hands to rub the sponge against her body. The door was unlocked, possibly out of habit more than anything else. He stood outside, leaning against the wall, hesitant about what he should do. It was starting to become annoying to feel that way. He was the kind of man who let himself be guided by instinct, without thinking too much, watching the consequences unfold before him. Though he might have simply walked in, he still knocked on the door and waited for her approval before stepping inside.

She was almost up to her neck in bubbles and surprisingly enough she blushed when he approached her. The sight almost broke his heart. He loved how after all they’d seen and done together she still had enough modesty to feel flustered by his presence. He could have pretended that he was looking for something or that someone had called or that he needed to ask her where some kitchen utensil was, but none of the words came out. He was never a man of patience and she was aware of it; any pretense in her company would be fruitless because she knew him better than anyone. Not only had she been beside him during all his latest life-changing experiences, she had also been the cause of more than one aspect of his personality improving.

So all he did was kneel down beside the tub, reaching for her hand and looking into her eyes, asking the question without really needing to say anything.

He wasn’t fantastically accustomed to ask for her permission; even during their first encounters Brienne had been enthusiastic towards his advances, but he was not sure how to go about this process. Their fights were usually intense and brief and ended up in one of two places – the bed, or their gym, but neither of those seemed entirely appropriate in this situation. It felt like they had grown apart much earlier than their physical separation. He had unintentionally disregarded the importance of their day to day as the glue that held the marriage together, always thinking that their moments could be postponed, but he learned the harsh lesson that the matter required as much daily attention as every other aspect of life. Breaching the resulting distance and stepping back into their previous dynamic would hardly be as quick as he would have wanted, but he was sure as seven hells going to try.

His wife took less time than he had initially expected to pull him towards her, and to his surprise she moved to take off his shirt. Though by now he had more practice with his left hand, she knew it was much easier if she helped him. He took off his pants himself and joined her in the tub, naked as the day he was born. The water was so warm it was evident she had only been there for a few minutes. He relaxed and leaned against the opposite side with a contented smile, while she stayed exactly where she was, her hands absently rubbing the soap against her knees as they peeked out from the water. Her eyes gave him that look that told him she was battling herself to come to a decision, so he waited until she obtained the answer to whatever the question was in her head.

There was never a better time to evaluate and work on each other’s flaws in the relationship, so Jaime had taken it upon himself to analyze what he wanted out of her that he never received before. There was nothing more important than getting her to step up. He wanted to push her to ask, to take the initiative, to follow things through to the end. The only way to achieve it was to bite his tongue and most definitely stay off her, though he could not help but flirt with her more than once, thoroughly enjoying watching her squirm.

But he would not give in, no matter how much his cock protested. Day by day he would drive her closer against a corner until she assumed enough leadership to take things by the reins. He suspected her renewed shyness around him came from the fact that for the first time she allowed herself to accept the reality of things, to open her mind up to the idea that he did belong to her, that he was head over heels for her, that stubborn, tall, muscular girl he had met so long ago, to understand that he was in it for the long run and that unlike so many other things, this was not really a product of his impulsiveness. It was exactly what he wanted, so he was not about to rush things and give her what she needed, he would sit and wait until she took it for herself.

Apparently she was starting to get the message.

With a slightly uncertain hand she reached out and rubbed the soapy sponge against his forearm. He slid closer to her, unable to contain a playful smile, but if she noticed, she made no note of it. Brienne dipped the sponge in the water, the bubbles flying at the motion, and ran it all the way up to his neck. His skin felt cleansed; he had been jogging on the treadmill and all the sweat was dissolving, his tension fading as a response to her attentions.

She avoided his gaze, but he still stared intently at her face, taking in the way her mouth opened so slightly at the sight of him, her uncertain eyes, the strands of wet hair sticking to her temples. When she was done with his arms, he ran his fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the gesture, his nails scraping against her scalp, his right arm sliding around the small of her back to pull her to him as slowly as if she were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking her. Her fingertips brushed against his cheeks, wiping away the sweat on his face with a gentleness that only her touch had ever provided him; for all her strength she always treated him in a naturally tender manner.

Jaime just sat there, staring at her lips, watching the drops of warm water flow down from the side of her face to her chin, small bubbles stuck to her straw-colored hair. The skin of her waist was slippery against his arm.  

She finally found the courage to look into his eyes, blinking far more frequently than he thought necessary. Her face came so close to his that he could see the tiny drops of water on her eyelashes and feel her breath on his upper lip. She smelled of soap and shampoo and all of their nights together and all of their fights, their runs, their marriage, their home.

Her mouth came closer and closer, diminishing the distance between them, until she placed a tentative kiss on his own. She broke soon enough, but he did not allow her to slip away, tightening his grip around her waist and running the tip of his tongue against her lower lip as softly as he could, teasing her. She sighed and only then did he kiss her fully, parting her lips with ease, tangling his hand in the damp hair at the back of her neck, her tongue responding to his slow movements, her chest coming to rest against his, the water between them flowing to the sides. He could feel every beat of her frantic heart against it, unable to understand why she was so nervous, but he would be lying to himself not to admit he was, too. Though they were married he felt like somehow they were starting all over again. The taste of her mouth was everything he would have needed to survive in that moment, every other thought vanished from his head, transported to a different atmosphere.

Her buds became erect against his chest in spite of the temperature and she let out the softest of moans when she felt him harden against her thigh underneath the water. Jaime did not care anymore if they were moving too fast or not, and from the way her body started writhing against his, neither did she. When she moved her arms to encircle his neck, he felt the bubbles from her shoulders stick to his cheeks and his hand wrapped around her buttocks, prompting her to place her legs around his waist. He desperately wanted to enter her, to plunge into her depths, but at the same time he wanted to continue drowning in their kisses. The initial awkwardness had faded second after second, once more falling into a rhythm that felt as comfortable as breathing, as comfortable as fighting together.

It was Brienne who opened herself to him, using her hand to position him at her entrance and guide him inside her, slowly enough to make him ache from the yearning, her familiar warmth engulfing him. It took them moments to adapt to the sensation of the water around their juncture and increase their pace. When she started moaning into his mouth, the sounds of her breath intensifying, he traced her jawline with his teeth, running his hand up her spine, burying his head in her neck. He thrust into her again and again, her noises driving him to the edge, but he braced himself to wait for her, running his thumb over one of her slippery, soap-covered nipples.

Soon she matched his quick movements to the point where the water started splashing on the floor, drawing a soft laugh from him. “You didn’t fill this bathtub for two,” he whispered into her ear, nibbling her earlobe and extracting a lewd sigh from her lips in the process.

They had not done anything remotely close to this in such a long time that the desperation seeped out of them both, a level of arousal that could only come from being deprived of such a contact with each other for weeks. She was so tight against him that it was becoming too difficult to hold on.

“Jaime…” she groaned finally, starting to slow down, giving into the intensity of the sensation, “Jaime, I…”

He could have almost cried out his relief by then, giving a last thrust of his hips to reach her further inside. A second later he was coming with her, his breath heavy, losing his grasp on consciousness as her own climax made her walls tense around him, feeling a release that went far past the physical and digging his fingers deep into the skin of her hip.

Jaime watched her as she opened her eyes, her pupils consuming their astonishing blue, her cheeks still flushed, and he knew she had never been more beautiful than right then; her wide mouth, pale freckled skin, her nose and her crooked teeth made no matter. She was all he ever wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last scene is for MhysaMhysa because, well, she was the first to ask for it. ;) Hope the fluff here brought you all back from the ocean of tears!
> 
> Three more updates to go! :)


	25. 463 - Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 25, Chapter 26 ]  
> Song: Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Little Shadow ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_MCOpkJbxEc)). I know I'm totally abusing YYY but I just can't stop.

**463**  
(Brother)

“You said you wanted me to ask for things. So this is what I’m asking you,” Brienne told him as soon as she closed the front door, her friends now gone. Margaery and Sansa had rushed to their townhouse the morning after their plane landed, bringing several bags of gifts so as not to raise suspicion between whichever agent of the Night’s Watch was parked outside that day. “Let’s tell her.”

“That could jeopardize the entire operation. You know that.” He headed for the dining table, where a series of maps and documents were spread. There were so many annotations that his head was starting to mix up all the information, but he was not certain that their plan would even take off at all.

Knowing that his brother had arrived at Kingsland and being unable to meet him was wrecking Jaime’s nerves. There was no viable way for either him or Brienne to see him and clear things up, not with the Night's Watch breathing at the back of their necks. Sansa and Margaery had been let in on the entire situation during their visit, while Daenerys was charged with the task of harboring the fugitive in her mansion.

The need to talk to his brother was eating him up inside; he hadn't even found out what really happened with his father because he refused to tell his side of the story until he talked to Jaime personally.

Brienne was still very uncomfortable keeping Daenerys in the shadows. He could understand why, the implications behind the disappearance of the shares were too many, especially taking into consideration her family’s untimely death. After his own experience with the car accident, he was convinced it was the work of the Brave Companions. The fact that his father went so far back with them did not fail to surprise him.

“She deserves to know,” she whispered, her blue eyes dripping with anxiety. “Her parents died for it, Jaime. Her older brother as well.” She stepped away from the door, closer to him, offering him the one thing she was certain might convince him, “If she forgives us, she’ll help.”

 _If she doesn’t, she’ll throw us all under the bus_ , he wanted to say. _And she might be right to do it_. It was like flipping a coin; if she did agree to join them, it meant an almost guaranteed victory. The last piece of the puzzle would be much easier to reach, especially with Tyrion by Daenerys’ side.

“Okay.”

It was not the plan that convinced him, nor the possible consequences. The last time he had made this kind of decision on his own, it had put such a strain on their marriage that everything spun out of control. Whatever happened would affect them both, so she had to get a vote, and for all her stubbornness, her help had proved invaluable to him. Had it not been for her convincing her friends and organizing the entire trip to the Narrow Sea and beyond, Tyrion would have never been found. All Brienne needed to be motivated was to feel that she was doing the right thing, and that was never going to happen unless he gave in.

 _Compromise_ , he kept telling himself, though it tasted no less bitter through repetition.

–––

They resolved to use the technique of hiding in plain sight in order to establish a meeting. Daenerys planned the most outrageous, lavish party she possibly could, making sure that every public figure in Westeros showed up, that there was enough alcohol flowing around for the attendees to question whatever they might see, and throwing in a few girls from a burlesque show run by a woman that went by the name of Chataya.

By three in the morning the event was at its peak, so it was the right moment for the meeting to take place. Little by little they had started to meet in the wine cellar; Sansa had gone off with Margaery under the excuse of freshening their make-up, he and Brienne had put on a passionate show before retiring discreetly upstairs and using a different stairway to go back down, while Dany excused herself to attend some foreign guests in her study.

The lighting inside the room was dim, but he could see everyone clearly enough. There were dozens of barrels inside, their oak neatly polished. Some of them had a dragon engraved on the front, and all of the vintages were identified with golden letters. The ceiling was so high that when he looked up, he only saw darkness. They walked a few aisles before he met face to face with his brother.

Tyrion looked exactly the same, at least physically. He wore a black shirt and jeans, his hair was unkempt and his eyes reflected the exhaustion from the last months. Rough stubble covered his face. He frowned when he spotted Jaime, and before anything was said, the girls went into a small room nearby to give them some privacy.

"Let me see if I get this straight," his brother started, without so much as a hello, "Father is murdered, I get the blame and my big brother chooses to believe our cunning cousin as easily as a hot knife cuts through butter, even though he knows she'll do anything to get her way." Jaime tried to interrupt, but Tyrion raised his hand to stop him, then continued, "Not to mention that it was you who told Father about Tysha." He raised his eyebrows and directed a sardonic smile at him. "And the best part yet – when he finally sends help, it's not for my benefit, but the company's. Touché, brother."

Damn. He could really make him sound like a jerk in so many words. The doubt and resentment he had felt for Tyrion during the past weeks slowly faded as a result of his little speech. But it had seemed so possible that he had truly killed their father…

"You told him he deserved to die. You disappeared right when the manhunt began. You didn't come to me or contact me. How could I possibly know? And you didn't even tell me you knew about Tysha. The only one who was present aside from Father that day was Cersei. Which means you believed her, too."

An angry silence settled between them. Jaime slumped down on the floor, crossing his legs and loosening the tie of his elegant suit. "Father already knew about her. He told me she was after your money and nothing else. I didn't want to believe him, but she had so many debts, Tyrion. The girl was broke. All I knew was that Father gave her a check to disappear, and she did. So he was right."

Tyrion snorted. "You continue to believe these ridiculous fairytales. I don't know how you can keep putting your trust in his words, or Cersei's, for that matter. You're a blind idiot."

If Tyrion kept pushing his buttons this way, things were going to end very badly. He clenched his teeth.

"Father paid her after he threatened to kill her father and siblings if she didn't leave me. And yes, she had debts, what normal person doesn't? She couldn't get a scholarship, so she was drowning in loans to put herself through school. She was the one girl who ever loved me, and I never even looked for her when she left because I trusted you. I thought you were telling the truth when you said she was in it for the money. You _swore_ you were sure. But you were just an idiot and I was a fool for believing you."

"I…" He was at a loss. He felt the same way he had when finding out Cersei was sleeping her way to the top. Lies on top of lies. _Oh, how I hate this game_. "I'm sorry."

His brother regarded him with cold eyes. "I'm glad he died. And I should've killed him myself, but unfortunately Shae beat me to it."

Jaime shook his head. He might as well have struck him with a mace. "Shae?!"

Tyrion ran his fingers through his hair. "The Brave Companions were just waiting for the right time to strike back after Father cut them off. So they snuck her into my life and then snuck her into his bed." He laughed under his breath. "The great Tywin Lannister was shot by his own whore. Isn't life just sweet?"

Jaime wondered if maybe he had too much to drink and was imagining the conversation. Their father had an almost pathological dislike for vices, were they drugs or whores or gambling. He had idolized the man his whole life and not only had he been callous in his treatment of the Targaryens, his own business associates years ago, but he had also been the world's most exquisitely hypocritical businessman.

"Not looking so bad now, am I?" A small grin escaped Tyrion’s lips as he poured himself a glass of red wine, then one for Jaime. The taste was so distinguished it was probably older than both of them combined, but he could barely appreciate it. Shock after shock his senses were dulling.

"I shouldn't have…" He trailed off. He didn't think there was anything he could say to make things right anymore.

"No, you shouldn't."

"I didn't want to believe it. But it was too much to deal with. You have no idea the kind of shit that's going on at Lannister & Co. No matter what you think of me, we need to work together. We need to liquidate it."

His brother was surprised for the first time in their conversation. " _Liquidate_ it? What are you talking about?"

He set out to explain everything to him. Their drop on the stock market, the capital injection, the desperate measures he had taken in order to save the company, Cersei's reckless decisions. Lastly he told him about the situation regarding Daenerys, her rights in the company, the buried documents. Any of that information coming to the light would generate serious legal implications that would result in far more than a simple closure. Jaime gave Tyrion a chance to take it all in, it had taken him weeks to absorb the information and think of any kind of approach to get them out of it.

“Do you have a plan in mind?” he asked him pensively.

Jaime sighed. “Your presence already helps. We can overrule Cersei’s decisions, as well as any other investor’s. That means that we can officially determine that Lannister & Co. will be at an end and go ahead with the dissolution. But that will make us vulnerable to the liquidator finding the documents. Whoever is chosen will have to be approved by every investor, which is insane. The Martells and the Tyrells are permanently at each other’s throats; the Boltons and the Freys will do whatever it takes to stab us in the back. The Redwynes might be under control so long as their shipments remain untouched. No matter which way we turn, we’ll be investigated down to the last document. We have to disappear all evidence of the Targaryen shares.”

Tyrion frowned. “You’ve forgotten one detail. Cersei.”

He shook his head. “I haven’t. She can’t know any of this until we’ve gotten rid of the evidence and drawn up the papers or she’ll throw a hissy fit and screw everything up.”

His brother finally grinned. “I’m all in for paying the bitch back for her trouble. But we need to figure out where she keeps every single copy of the documents. To whom she would entrust them. How to take them from her.”

Jaime nodded. He had already thought of some factors, but not all of them. Now that they were slightly more comfortable with one another, they called the girls back in and explained everything, down to the last detail, taking them hours.

Daenerys had been enraged to find out the truth; she had fallen into a heated discussion with Jaime, then with Brienne, retiring to speak privately to her and later to Tyrion. He was the one who finally managed to convince her that she would get every penny even if it had to come from their own shares. But Jaime knew that was not really the problem, she already had more money than she could spend in her lifetime. It was her family’s death that tore her apart, finding out that it was not an accident, that she could have had a completely different life were it not for Tywin’s ambition.

Unexpectedly, it had been Brienne who brought her back from it. “ _Valar morghulis_ ,” she whispered timidly, “you taught me that when I first met you. When you told me about Viserys. There’s no bringing them back. But we can help you get back what is rightfully yours.”

All the guests were long gone by the time they reached any kind of middle ground. Both Sansa and Margaery stayed on the sidelines. They already knew all of it, and they were torn on the subject of Dany’s inheritance. It wasn’t a simple decision, after all, and jumping on one of their friends’ sides might make things worse. After mulling the blonde’s words over a glass of persimmon wine, she had begrudgingly agreed to join them. Her eyes were still so full of guarded rage that Jaime had a hard time believing she was being honest, but he decided to keep his skepticism to himself.

By noon they had been served brunch – though Jaime wondered if Daenerys might choose that very moment to poison him – and everyone headed their way. Tyrion remained hidden at the girl’s mansion, sorely needing the protection now that they were so close to executing their carefully planned operation.


	26. 465 - Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 25, Chapter 26 ]  
> Song: The Seatbelts - Stella by Moor ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUAiFQvxqO4))

**465  
** (Time)

“Are you scared?” she whispered into his ear.

Jaime ran his hand up her back, his lips wandering to her chin. The night was so cold that she had thrown a thick woolen blanket over them once they were done and she had comfortably settled her naked body beside him on the bed.

“I’m worried.”

Brienne nodded. “We’ve run it over dozens of times. We all know what we have to do. It’ll be okay.”

She was struggling to stay awake and he knew she must be as exhausted as he was. They had been training the entire night before falling into a very clumsy encounter under the sheets, their first since the bathtub. That night they had been led by passion, by an appetite greater than any of their doubts, but once that wore off it became harder to coordinate their efforts. A miscalculation when he moved atop her led to Brienne’s head being banged against the headboard and a twenty-minute break while she put ice on it. He could only be thankful that she had laughed it off a while later, before things had gotten heated again. Only the gods knew why it was so much work for them to fall back into the rhythm of their previously instinctive interactions.

He let out a heavy sigh. “If they catch us, we’ll all be severely fucked.” His fingers wrapped around her cheek and he stared into her eyes. They could dance around the issue all they wanted, but he had to tell her the words, at least just once. “I want you to be safe. If things go wrong, I want you to leave. Use the accounts in the Iron Islands. No one will find them. Don’t contact me or any of your friends. And don’t come to Westeros unless I tell you to.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “They can’t force us to testify against each other, but they may implicate you. I won’t let that happen. If anything goes awry, promise me you’ll go.”

She became unsettled at his words, her brow furrowed and her hand moved away from his hip. Then she buried her head in his neck and nodded.

Jaime made an effort to lighten the mood. For all they knew, this might be one of their last nights together. “If it works out, we’ll have my entire inheritance in cash. You can swim in piles of money if you want to.” He smiled. “What will you do with it?”

Her voice was muffled against the skin of his neck. “I don’t want money. I want you.”

“Come on. There has to be something you’d want to do with that much cash.”

She stifled a laugh. “I’d fix the emergency button in a certain elevator in Flea Bottom.”

He moved to lay on his back, pulling her close so she would lie on top of him. She lifted her head and stared at his face almost with longing. “That’s insulting. That elevator works better than cupid. Imagine how lost you’d be if we hadn’t been locked in. An absolute tragedy.” He grinned at her. “We wouldn’t be married.”

Brienne shrugged playfully.

He gave her a surprised expression. “Is it that bad, being married to me?”

“It’s fucking complicated.” It had slipped out of her mouth so naturally that he could not help but laugh at her words, cursing included. “It’s also pretty great,” she told him softly, leaning forward and stealing a kiss.

He nipped at her collarbone playfully. Given their uncertain circumstances, neither of them wanted to bring it up. No gifts, no dinner, no gestures. Not with their levels of anxiety, not with only five days to go before their lives changed for better or worse. It would only make things harder. But still somehow the words came out of his mouth, unbidden, a whisper that exposed his yearning, “Happy anniversary.”

In spite of everything, her heart sped up against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this update was super short, but I promise to make up for it on Friday with 470 - The Heist!


	27. 470 - The Heist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: April March - Chick Habit ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rRCw3pxX1M)). Yeah, seriously.
> 
> I'll go ahead and say it, this chapter was a huge bitch to write, so I hope it's not a total trainwreck.

**470  
** (The Heist)

THE BODYGUARD

The most important thing for Brienne was keeping the man silent, so right as her feet swung to take his legs out from under him, her priority was covering his mouth with her gloved hand and sticking a piece of cloth inside it. She reached for the rope in her bag, successfully tying him to the nearest chair, taking his cell phone and disconnecting the nearest land phone. Wearing a ski mask and with such a big frame, he would surely take her for a man.

She could’ve prayed to all seven gods that the security cameras had been looped remotely by Tyrion, otherwise it would be less than four minutes before they were on their way to the Night’s Watch headquarters and it would all go to waste. It had been hard enough to make sure their tail that night was the only agent bought by Jaime himself.

She grabbed the keys of the room on her way out and locked the guard inside, checking the time and running her next steps in her head – Sansa first, to make sure Clegane would play along, then Margaery.

In order to be successful, the operation had to be as stealthy as possible, but this particular security guard was the only one they could not avoid. There were at least three more in other locations, but Jaime had provided them with the necessary information to sneak in through a passage that had not been used in at least twenty years; an abandoned area of the company’s building that was originally meant to serve as a clean power plant, before Tywin abandoned the project. It did not even appear on the current maps and it took him at least two weeks of digging to find it, but it had been the perfect way to sneak her and Sansa through.

The now unconscious Rennifer Longwaters was in charge of watching the basement floors of the skyscraper in order to protect their archives from any intruders, so they were forced to restrain him, even though it would expose them. Jaime’s plan was to deal with the man personally when he made his report the next morning. He had managed to convince him that his sister was planning to dig into some of the old files he was in charge of guarding and wanted to be informed immediately should a situation arise. Of course he would not know that the break-in would be caused by Jaime himself. If any information managed to escape, it would be too late for Cersei by morning.

Brienne stared at her stopwatch. Six minutes. It was more than enough time for Sansa to reach the top floor. She hit the Send button on her cell phone with her pre-written message to Jaime, who was waiting outside in the car, ready to report any irregularities.

THE FRIEND

Sandor Clegane’s most recent job had become standing outside Cersei’s office during the night shift. Sansa could not think of a duller task, being completely alone every day just because of the woman’s incessant suspicion, especially considering the amount of security they had going on in the rest of the building. If it had not been an inside job, there would hardly be any way of finding herself in the top floor. The only elevator that would take them there required a key card to be activated, whether it belonged to an employee or a receptionist in case of receiving visitors, and the doors to the emergency stairs would open only when the security handle was overrun by the fire alarm. Sansa had used the same hacked card they employed to open the gate that connected the basement with the service area.

She crouched in the hallway and looked around every corner as she slowly approached Cersei’s office, following Jaime’s instructions and remembering every one of Brienne’s tips of how to be completely aware of her surroundings. If their information was precise, the only guard there would be him. Sansa could feel her heart beginning to beat faster when she spotted him sitting with his arms crossed on his chest outside of Cersei’s office, wearing some scruffy black clothes. He was the only member of the woman’s entourage who refused to wear a suit.

Once she made sure all the offices were empty – which was not difficult, thanks to the glass walls – she rose and walked toward him with caution. His eyes had been closed; he opened them with a start and got up from his chair. “It’s me,” she whispered hastily, before the hulking man could decide to knock her unconscious, “Sansa Stark.”

There was a dim light coming from a lamp on the corner that allowed her to see him frown in disbelief. She pulled down the hood of her black sweater, revealing her long red hair, and saw the recognition on his face. “You? What are you doing here?” he asked with his rasping voice. “This is no place for little girls.”

“I told you before, I’m not a little girl,” she replied, offended, “I’m here on a mission.”

He barked with laughter. “What mission is that? I would’ve thought you’d be too busy at the hair salon instead of sneaking into this building. How did you even pull that off? The elevators are locked.”

Sansa sighed. She needed to be patient if she wanted to convince him to join their cause. “Look, I know you’re not a bad guy, no matter how hard you try, and no one even knows. I haven’t told anyone about the time you helped me out when that guy cornered me outside the club. You could’ve just walked away and didn’t.”

He shrugged it off.

“I don’t care what you want everyone to think. But what I don’t know is how you can work for someone like Cersei.” She pointed towards the blonde’s neatly organized office. “She’s insufferable and impatient and crazy. Aren’t you sick of having these shifts? I’ll bet no one ever even comes here at night.”

“You’re here,” Sandor told her with a smirk. “I s’pose you’re someone. And I’m guessing you didn’t come here looking for a new dress, neither.”

She crossed her arms. “Just admit that you have your doubts about the woman.”

“It’s a job. It pays well. I don’t give a fuck about anything else.” He glanced at the office. “And no, no one else has come. But if they pay me to just stand around guarding some empty space, what the fuck do I care?”

This task was getting to be much harder than she anticipated. It was true that they hadn’t had many exchanges; other than him assisting her in her time of need and then her trying to thank him in multiple occasions, visiting the gym while they still went to Kingsland University. Sansa still felt like she had never managed to get through to him. She always believed that maybe he had a soft spot for her because she was the one person he’d shared his good side with, but was she mistaken? Maybe Margaery was right and she was always thinking too much of people. But her gut always told her he was kind under his façade. He was just rougher than the rest, that much she could not deny... And for some reason she got butterflies in her stomach when Brienne asked her to do this for them, because she thought they shared some special bond.

“Look,” Sansa continued, deciding to be honest at last, “I’ll tell you the truth. I’m here because I need a document inside her office.” He snorted and probably wanted to interrupt her, but she went on, “The lives of many of my friends are on the line because of it. In fact, your employer’s own fate is tied to it.”

“Can you be any more dramatic?” he interjected.

“It might involve jail time and also you losing this job. So everyone would be equally affected.” Her blue eyes expressed the urgency of the request. He studied them with his own dark ones, his half-burned face inspecting her like a lie detector. It made her feel strangely unsettled. “We can guarantee you would keep your job and get better conditions. You wouldn’t have to work for her anymore. Please help us out.”

“Yeah, and are you gonna get me out of prison when they throw us all in for burglary tomorrow morning?”

“It won’t come to that, I promise. Not as long as we have that paper.”

It took him a few minutes to think things through. During that time Brienne walked out of the elevator, ready to support her if things went down the wrong road, but she kept her distance. She had already taken off her ski mask. Sandor didn’t fail to notice her presence, but all he did was return the blonde’s nod. They had been in the kickboxing team together and Sansa had the feeling that they’d managed to develop some level of respect for one another. She wondered if her presence would pressure him further or make him even more reticent.

“Fine. But all I’ll do is look the other way. I ain’t giving you any keys. Not like I have ‘em, anyway.” He stepped aside from the door, looking away from her face.

A wave of relief washed over her and she smiled brightly. “Thank you,” was all she told him, “I swear this will be worth it.”

The keys were no problem; Jaime had taken care of it. After going inside and following his instructions on how to open the safe that was carefully concealed behind an extremely heavy bookcase (that Sandor begrudgingly assisted them with), finding the right document took them an hour. It delayed their plan by about twenty minutes, but it was not so terrible. Margaery’s task would take long enough to give Jaime and Brienne time to catch up. Sansa was just grateful that her part in it was done.

THE TEMPTRESS

It was not such a hard thing to do, enticing Osney Kettleblack; Margaery had seen him many times while visiting Lannister & Co. representing her father. He had a clear weakness for Cersei and knowing the woman’s techniques for keeping her entourage under control, it was evident that she was holding him by a thread of teasing and unfulfilled promises. The Kettleblacks were bad players, though; they were the kind to expose their weaknesses too easily. Osmund Kettleblack worked at Calvin Klein, Cersei had most definitely slept with him to get a contract so early in her career, so Margaery thought it might be a sore topic for his brother to find out that she was going through them like underwear. She was a specialist when it came to anticipating men’s ambitions and one of the first things her grandmother had taught her was that most of their lives revolved around their egos. These brothers gave off a vibe of masculinity and she was certain they subconsciously battled for the position of the alpha male.

“So, I know you hold the position of head of security at Lannister & Co.,” the brunette told him, sitting down on the couch of his small apartment and pouring two glasses of the vodka she had brought. “That’s so impressive for someone so young.” She handed him the drink.

Osney was tall and well built, with dark hair and a clean-shaven face. He wanted to impress her. She could tell by the smell of his cheap cologne and his long-sleeved white shirt. She, on her part, wore a short black dress with an ample neckline, displaying her cleavage. More than once she caught him looking at her breasts, but she gave no sign of acknowledgement. Her bright eyes regarded him with undivided attention; it was an unfailing technique, men loved to talk about themselves and feel like knights from the Age of Heroes, so all she had to do was listen to whatever he said and steer him in the right direction.

“Well, it has been said I have a natural talent for it,” he told her, taking a few gulps of his drink. “Nothing can escape me and I have the respect of all my guards. I make sure they all stick to their jobs and make frequent reports of any suspicious activity. There’s no safer company, Miss Tyrell.”

She giggled at the formality. “Call me Margaery, please, we’re friends here.” She sipped her drink delicately and licked her lips. “You must know I work at The Golden Rose. I’m a little ashamed to admit…” She looked away with doe eyes and whispered, “We’ve had a few security breaches, Osney.” The brunette casually ran her hand up his forearm, her fingers barely brushing his skin. “I really think we could use someone like you. We would make sure all your needs are covered.”

The man raised an eyebrow and smirked at that. She recognized the glint of ambition in the corner of his black eyes. “What kind of needs?”

She laughed graciously, making sure her cheeks blushed a pretty shade of pink. This was second nature to her by now. “Your financial needs, of course! Oh, you embarrass me, Osney.” She placed her glass on the coffee table. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but is it possible for you to put some ice in my drink? I like my vodka on the rocks.”

“Sure,” he replied, standing and heading for the kitchen.

The girl walked cautiously toward the front door, making sure her heels made no noise on the floor. She grabbed a pair of keys from the table beside it, picking the thickest one after studying which one he used when she walked in. She turned it and opened the door slightly, just enough so that it wouldn’t be noticeable, and went back to sit on the couch. She was infinitely grateful that its back was turned toward the entrance; it would make her assignment much easier. The brunette used the opportunity to pull out a pill from the locket of her necklace, pouring it in his drink and mixing it up.

He returned soon enough and she welcomed him with a smile. This time he sat closer. It took at least ten more minutes of inane conversation before the pill took effect and his words started slurring. “Are you okay?” she asked him when his eyes began to seem heavy. “I know it’s late, you’re probably tired. Maybe I should go.”

But he did not manage to even reply before his head fell back on the couch. Her face approached his so she could study his breathing, hearing it slow down until she was sure he would not wake up. She placed both drinks on the table and stood, checking the hallway, but it was already empty. They were inside. She hadn’t been able to turn her head enough to confirm it while talking to the young man. When she walked into Osney’s bedroom, she found Jaime and Brienne already going through every single drawer, box and corner of the place.

“This asshole has too much crap in here,” Jaime said, taking a folder out of the nightstand. Just like Brienne, he wore completely black clothes, the only camouflage they could employ. “It’s gonna take us forever to find the copy.”

“We don’t have forever,” Margaery told them, “he’ll be out for an hour, tops. Anything stronger would be detected. He needs to think he just fell asleep.”

She set out to help them. Fortunately they had a head start while she kept him distracted, so the closet was all done. Under the mattress they found a key, which led them to search for a security box. When they were barely ten minutes away from their deadline, they found it behind an almost obscene painting of Lady Godiva. Most of the documents were key codes and cards for every door in Lannister & Co., names of employees, lists of their irregular activities and times of arrival. It was slightly unsettling to notice an entire folder on Jaime. His own cousin took him for another one of the contenders for her position.

The very last document was what they sought – the second copy of the evidence, inside a folder marked ‘Meereenese providers’. Of course a man as basic as Osney would never even know he had it. Cersei would be able to come and go into his apartment freely, and if she ever needed that copy she would only have to reach out and take it. He would never discover the kind of threat he could have hung over her head.

“Hey, I don’t know what happened,” she heard, and panic seeped through her. Jaime and Brienne were inside the closet, placing all his things back the way they found them. Osney was rubbing his eyes; at the sound of his voice they both stood still as statues. Fortunately the lights were off.

She approached him and held him by the arm, directing a charming smile at him. “Oh, I’m just mortified,” the girl told him, leading him back towards the living room. “We were talking and you fell asleep. But I understand, it is _so_ dull to talk about business! I didn’t want to wake you and I have a bit of a headache, so I went to your room to see if I could find a pill…”

He blinked in confusion. “Okay, yeah… I’ll get it.” He headed for his room once more, slipping from her grip. She could almost hear Jaime and Brienne’s terror in the next room and see the plan falling apart in their hands, but when he walked in, he said nothing. She heard the noise of him shuffling his things, opening the drawers, and finally the closet slamming shut. Margaery walked inside to find him taking a pill out of a bottle. While he was turned, Brienne waved a hand at her discreetly; they had managed to slip under the bed.

“I feel better now,” she assured him, “but I do think it’s gotten late. I’m afraid I should go now. Would you be so kind as to walk me to my car?” She giggled. “I don’t always have the luxury of being escorted by a head of security.”

She sure hoped the couple’s physical condition would help them with the task of climbing down twelve floors using the fire escape, because it was ridiculously unlikely that Osney would leave the door unlocked when they walked out. _That bitch has made him as paranoid as her_ , she thought bitterly. _The crazy just rubs off on them_.

THE COUSIN

In spite of her growing position in the company, Cersei had decided to keep her penthouse. It was pitch dark inside when she opened the door, and her expression when she noticed him was of utter confusion. It made sense; he had been furious after she had showed up at the hotel, pretending to finally lend an ear to his troubles, dwelling into conversation about Tywin and his death and pretending to reach some kind of middle ground on how to handle the company while having other intentions. He had felt relieved to have someone who shared the burden, but at the end it had been nothing but a way to get what she wanted, trying to seduce him, stealing a kiss from his lips in an attempt to drive him further away from Brienne. After that he refused to have any contact with her outside of anything absolutely essential at the office.

In his opinion the most absurd part was how she had treated him long before. When she had him, she’d barely used him as a convenience, and now that she had lost him she could not bear to think that he could love someone else. Of course he also had to take into account the fact that this someone else was Brienne; Cersei thought herself so much better than her in every aspect that it undoubtedly awoke a sense of humiliation, wounding her pride.

“What are you doing here?” his cousin asked him. She wore a very revealing baby doll, making him wonder if she was expecting different company, but her disarrayed hair told him she had been sleeping when he arrived. She might as well; it was two in the morning by then. When he glanced around the apartment he saw she had already downed half a bottle of wine, the empty glass resting on the long table in the dining room. _Good_ , he thought with relief, _that will speed things up_.

“You can come visit me at the hotel, but I can’t come here?” Jaime asked her, making his way inside. “I’d have thought we’d be at odds.” He approached one of the cabinets and grabbed two of her most expensive glasses, pouring himself and Cersei some of her wine. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Cersei gave him a look of suspicion, but she accepted the wine. It was not going to be so complicated. Her natural outlet for stressful situations was drinking and smoking, a habit she acquired from her acquaintances in the modeling world, getting her into a lot of trouble when she was still in Kingsland University and more than one DUI.

“I thought you were angry at me,” she started, “and I don’t see exactly what there is for us to talk about, outside of business, which we could discuss at the office.” A small smirk spread on her perfect lips. “Unless you have finally regained your sanity and decided to end things with that sad excuse for a woman.”

He laughed cynically. “It’s been so long, how can you still fool yourself? I don’t even understand exactly what it is that you want. All you wanted from me was convenience. Sometimes comfort, at most.”

Cersei gritted her teeth, but said nothing. She was intent on finishing her glass of wine. He knew her too well. She was hoping that soon she’d become uninhibited enough to tell him the things she would never express otherwise, that maybe then she could convince him to step away and let her lead. Her need to get her way was almost pathological, but still after everything they had gone through, he wished he could help her. She had chosen the wrong path by joining Lannister & Co., but in her eyes stepping back after getting herself into that situation would have seemed weak, and nothing could be worse. Ever since they were children, she would always see any project to completion, even if she was terrible at it or it made her miserable, only so that no one could ever say that she had given up. Tywin, it all came back to Tywin.

Jaime had never even understood how dysfunctional their family was until he had started interacting with Brienne and her friends. Selwyn would give everything he had for his daughter; the man had the possibility of establishing a contract with any of the biggest companies for years, securing financial prosperity for many generations to come, but to him the beauty of the land was more important. The only thing that was ever worth the sacrifice was Brienne’s happiness. He could have been frustrated that she was not a typical daughter, angered by her lack of interest in making herself pleasant for boys, that she had turned down Hunt, that she was a female sports journalist and that until he appeared, she had no prospect to get married or have children that would live to continue their lineage. But instead he had loved her the way she was and let her be.

The Stark children had been raised to live with honor and honesty always in mind, but other than that all of them were allowed to do what they wanted and follow their passions. Even Margaery, whose family was so similar to his, was given her freedom. She had joined the business of the Tyrells because she was good at it and she had a great admiration for her grandmother. Her brother Loras had followed his own path by starting his business with Renly and all he received was support.

Tywin drained, and drained and drained. All he ever cared about was the future. The legacy. The only way to live forever in his opinion was through their company. While Jaime greatly respected his mind for business, especially after going through the bitter experience of playing the game, he was now able to understand how his severity had derailed all of them from their own personalities. His father never appreciated Tyrion’s abilities, always giving him much less than he could really handle because of some twisted sense of pride. He forced Jaime to follow his steps, learn from everything he did, handle way more than he actually could, even though he knew he disliked the responsibilities and the intricate relationships with the investors. But still Jaime had given in after losing his hand, trying to feel useful once he could no longer spend his days fighting. Cersei had been treated much the same, but she had always strived far more than either of them to please Tywin, to get his attention, to feel like his daughter and prove that she was as good as his sons at being a Lannister.

But she was not. She wanted power and could not handle it, because it was too hard for her to understand the concept of teamwork in a company. She could not bear to share the glory with Tyrells and Redwynes and Freys, so she alienated herself, little by little becoming impractical. Even the burdens she would keep deep inside; finding out about Daenerys’ shares must have shocked her as much as him, but instead of coming to him to try and find a solution, she thought the best approach would be going on like nothing happened.

“This cycle is not healthy,” Jaime continued, breaking the silence. “We’re too different, Cersei.”

“Are we, now? We’re so alike people used to confuse us for twins when we were younger.”

“Things happened. We changed.” He poured her another glass. “Do you remember when we used to collect seashells?”

The blonde nodded. The smallest of smiles appeared on her face at the memory. “We said if we could gather them all, we’d be together forever.” She looked away, toward her open balcony window. A light rain was beginning to pour. “But we never did.”

“We were lonely,” Jaime told her, “and we were kids. We thought we could live of our dreams. But here we are. This is what Father dreamed for us, and it’s nothing like we imagined.”

“It’s life,” she said softly. The rain intensified. The noise of every drop against the glass was soothing. “Life without him.”

In spite of himself, Jaime felt longing for his father. There was a sense of disorientation that came with the lack of a controlling figure in his life; having him demand things from him and lead him down his preferred path made it so that he never had to actually think for himself, even if he always protested. Now they were all free of his wrath, but that also meant that they had to make the decisions for themselves, and so far it was not going so well. His brother was still a fugitive accused of murder, his cousin could face jail time, the plan could blow up in their faces and they would wind up without a penny. Jaime could have chosen to look a different way. He might have, if he were still with Cersei. But Brienne had changed him. Giving the best of himself was always an unspoken requisite for being with her, because she would never be anything less than her most honest self. She would stick to her values until the last second and the only way for him to deserve her was to face the problem, no matter the consequences.

“We’ll make do,” he told her finally.

Her eyes were already heavy by then, so he helped her back to her bedroom. After making sure she was sleeping soundly, he walked into her study, not even needing to wonder where he had to look. He opened the third drawer on her desk, pulling out a big velvet box with an embedded lion head. He took out the seashells one by one, a memento from their childhood, and pulled out the bottom to reveal a compartment. The document he sought was carefully concealed beneath some of their photos from elementary school. His cousin did not even stir in her dreams as he put everything back and left her apartment, one step closer to the success of their plan.

THE HEIRESS

Varys was a bald, plump man in his forties. The look in his eyes immediately told Daenerys that he was a man of caution, with a calculating nature. That could either work in their favor or completely against them, depending on the promises Cersei made to him in exchange for his services. To her own amusement, he was also Magister Illyrio’s closest acquaintance, and the man had been nothing but kind to her and Viserys, for whatever reason best suited him. She had also found out that he had been a good friend to her family before they died, so it was not such a long shot to reach out to him through her.

She received him in her terrace with all the possible commodities; typical canapés from the Free Cities, the finest wines from the Arbor, delightful music. She also decided to speak in High Valyrian, seeking to provide him with an air of familiarity that the Lannister woman could never give him. Dany wore her most expensive silk dress from Myr, her hair tied up in a long braid decorated with a delicate pearl headpiece. Missandei made sure he did not lack for any refreshments. She was thankful the rain had finally stopped by then.

“So I finally get to meet the Targaryen heiress,” he told her with a sly smile. “I’ve heard quite a number of tales about your achievements. You’ve been at this less than two years and you’ve already managed to triple your net worth.”

Dany laughed and waved her hand. “I merely have good advisors, sir. And I’m not sure I still feel comfortable with people having net worth at all. I’d like to think we’re more than property.” She drank from her glass of wine. “I wasn’t aware that you were looking forward to a meeting. I would have asked earlier.”

He sat back on his chair, studying her violet eyes. His wine was untouched. “I was not sure what to make of you yet. But I think you approached me at an interesting time.” He drummed his fingers against the table. “After Tywin Lannister’s death and his inheritance splitting three ways, you’re the wealthiest woman in Westeros. Only Olenna Tyrell stands close, but I’ve been told you keep a good relationship with the roses.”

“I do. I believe in diplomacy, unlike our mutual acquaintance, Cersei Lannister. But you must know that. You work with the woman day and night. So you’re certainly aware of her most unwise choices.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been told nothing slips you by. You must know every dark, deep secret of the Lannisters.”

Varys looked away towards the pool, where her three cats were wandering about. The night air was fresh and there was barely any breeze, the full moon bathing them in light. From her beautiful terrace it made a lovely sight. Dany wondered if he was the kind of man to appreciate it.

“Information is priceless in our day and age,” he told her, “and handling it is my job. I became a lawyer because understanding the law is the first step toward making that information valuable. As it happens, mine indicates that you’re very closely related to the lions.” He tilted his head. “You’ve been Tyrion’s best friend since you arrived in Kingsland, and Jaime Lannister’s wife doesn’t fall far behind. What I wonder is how honest you think these characters are to you.”

She would have felt like a fool were it not for the fact that they had finally cleared things up. Upon finding out the depth of Jaime’s deceit and Brienne’s inability to tell her the truth, it had been days before she even managed to truly agree to the plan. It felt odd to hold such a fundamental card in the game; she could either help them and reach a place where they’d all get what they needed, or she could turn on them and get what was hers by right while sinking the family that was responsible for her exile, her hardest years and the early death of her parents and older brother Rhaegar.

Daenerys’ weakness was her emotional attachment. She had come to understand it and was not happy about it, but she knew Brienne was one of the best people she had ever met. She had been honest up to the point where the situation got out of control with Tyrion’s departure and Jaime’s descent into a frenzy at work, and she was not sure exactly what she would have done in her place. Her friend had apologized and even confided in her by telling her how the deceit had caused enough stress in her marriage for them to live apart for over a month. She tried her best to be forgiving, to give them a second chance and take other factors into consideration. Tyrion was one of them, probably the most important. He had gotten screwed from every point of view and he was not even aware of the shares until he got back; she saw no reason to have him fall with the rest, especially considering that she would still get all of her assets once Lannister & Co. was dissolved.

“I trust them. And I know you were close to my parents while they lived. What I don’t know is how you feel about justice.”

He gazed at her with a tight-lipped smile. “Why, it is my main drive, of course. Isn’t that what the law is about?” The man finally picked up his wine, drinking a gulp. “I simply never thought you would be this flexible. I mean no offense, but your family has been known to have some genes for madness… Such as your distant family member, Aerys Targaryen. I never thought I’d see the day when a dragon would step into power and keep her sanity in the process.”

Dany shrugged. “I’ve been forced to learn that families say little about individuals. It has been precisely thanks to my relationship with them that I have managed to establish a fair settlement with Tyrion and Jaime.”

She finally decided to direct a gesture towards Missandei and a few moments later the young girl came back with the aforementioned in tow. Dany had taken the time to bring him new clothes, more appropriate for his position, a suit that would be ideal for the occasion. With a haircut provided by Missandei and a shave, he looked like himself once more. Dany sat still all along, remembering how important it was to show the man a united front. A real agreement between Targaryens and Lannisters was probably a milestone; only with the advent of the documents had she realized the awkward relationship between them prior to her parents’ deaths.

Varys remained unfazed upon seeing him. She should have expected that he already knew of his presence. The fact that he had not betrayed him to the Night’s Watch was a good sign for their current objective.

“Are you here to confirm Miss Targaryen’s testimony?” Varys asked her friend, reverting back to the common tongue, a slight accent in every word. “Because I would have believed her either way. Magister Illyrio has been very generous with his praise toward her, and he and I go far back. I have been of a mind to help you in this little situation for a while.”

Tyrion laughed. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

The man’s response was a smirk.

“We only ask for simple things,” Tyrion told him. Dany sipped her wine, focusing her eyes intently on the lawyer’s. “Your copy. Assurance that yours is the last of four. Documents proving Shae’s involvement in the murder, relieving me of the charges.”

Varys raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound so simple.”

“We have plans after the matter of the company is settled. You will be let in on those plans and we will offer you a position in accordance to your abilities. Your talents are wasted on Cersei.”

“You will be treated with the respect you deserve,” Dany added, “and I’m sure the magister will also appreciate your participation, seeing as he has been invited to the project as well.”

His eyes focused on the flowers Dany had set on the table; blue hydrangeas from her own gardens. Her black cat approached her, jumping on her lap. She rubbed his back and he closed his eyes and purred. Tyrion settled on one of the chairs, pouring himself a glass of wine and nibbling on an appetizer.

“What’s your timeline?” he asked them.

Dany let out a soft laugh. “Tonight. It will be resolved by morning.” She almost held her breath then. Every single product of their efforts would hang by this one thread. Cersei had let a very dangerous man in her circle of trusted contacts. No one would ever be able to determine where Varys kept his copy, making him the safest backup in the woman’s plan, while also jeopardizing her carefully woven web. One word in his ear from the right people and he would change sides and throw her overboard.

They were the right people.

“Consider yourself a free man, Mr. Lannister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that comments and kudos keep my heart beating! I'll see you on Monday for the final three-chapter update. Have a happy weekend! :)


	28. 471 - Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are - the last update. Consider the last chapter an epilogue. Notes at the end!
> 
> [ Chapter 28, 29, 30 ]
> 
> Song: Coldplay - A Rush of Blood to the Head ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fC26XpXjSVw)).

**471  
** (Human)

“I want you to understand how carefully you need to tread here,” Tyrion told her. “Protest and kick and struggle all you want, this company is over. You will get everything that is yours when we have finalized the sale, but there will be no more Lannister & Co. to speak of.”

Before she could open her mouth to contradict him, Jaime added, “Cersei, what you did was nothing short of embezzlement. The fact that Father was the one to initiate it makes no matter, you knew of the shares and you chose not to disclose it. That could drain every penny of your inheritance in lawsuits and you _would_ do jail time.”

The blonde fell silent, her fists clenched tightly, but she did not say another word. She looked out the windows of her office towards the city, a place she had thought hers while it had chafed them all raw.

Jaime sighed. “Try to see it as a chance to start over. We can stop living under Father’s shadow. All of us.” A silent tear of rage ran down her face in spite of her efforts not to show her displeasure. Tyrion walked out of the room to give them privacy, leaving the dissolution documents on the desk. Jaime approached her slowly, as if seeking to aid a wounded animal. “It’s done.”

Her eyes were now glistening, her face contorted by the helplessness, but she did not reach for him. “This was mine, just as much as yours and Tyrion’s,” she told him with a cold tone, “and you were mine before you were ever hers.”

“You will not speak to me of her,” he cleared up. “As for the rest, we can’t keep looking back. We’ve all come too far. We have to move on.” He grabbed a silver pen from the teak desk and handed it to her. “You can do anything you want with the money. Go back to the Rock, go back to modeling, whatever you want.”

Cersei looked away once more, the shell of the woman he had loved a lifetime ago. He knew there was nothing else he could possibly add to ease her conscience; she had always thought herself a brilliant strategist, but she could never prevent her feelings from slithering their way into her professional life. Her need for power, her need to be obeyed had far surpassed her grip on the harsh reality of things.

She walked over to the table and signed the document. If he had not known her as well as he did, he would not have noticed the hint of relief that washed over her, in spite of the grief that must have been invading her every pore. It was the same grief he felt, for no matter their struggle in the past few months, it was only now that Tywin Lannister was dead and buried six feet under.

–––

The Kingsland Fashion Week was the most exciting event Brienne had attended in her life. Sansa had invited them to the runway show for her new collection, featuring the designs she created while traveling with Margaery and Daenerys, the colorful fabrics drawing the attention of the media. Loras and Renly invested almost every single penny of the season to promote it and it was nothing short of flawless. Models from Myr, Lys and Braavos had participated, most of them with very big careers under their belts. Sansa was happier than Brienne had ever seen her, and they had barely spent any time with her from her interviews, introductions and receiving people’s praise.

All her friends had a special section in the after party, where at least a thousand guests were in attendance. It was a gigantic mansion in the outskirts of the city with vast gardens and pools everywhere, alcohol flowing hand to hand and bands playing live in different rooms. There was a cabaret show upstairs, jazz music on the lower floor and acrobats performing shocking feats in the yard.

Brienne was enjoying herself like never before. She wondered if it had anything to do with the gloom that had hovered over them for months, now lifting and letting her see the view. Everyone in the party was so eccentric that no one had stared at her or made any rude comments, and at least three different people had approached her to give their regards and praise this interview or that article she had written.

Jaime was speaking excitedly with Tyrion, hearing all his stories from the Narrow Sea, where he had ridden boats down dangerous rivers and met a woman who was old and wrinkled but still managed to control every shipment that left Volantis. Dany and Margaery, on her other side, were giggling and chatting about Robb, who sat across the room, also invited to celebrate with his sister.

“You’re a big star now too, Bri, aren’t you?” Dany poked her with her elbow, a smile on her face. “People have only read your articles and somehow they still recognize you.”

“I hope it’s not from that horrendous picture of us they took when you two got married. That thing will follow you to the grave,” Margaery added with a laugh.

“Actually… well, I don’t want to jinx it, but your brother let me attend a game right in the cabin with Gerold Hightower.”

Dany gasped in surprise. “That’s the most famous baseball sportscaster in the last fifty years. Don’t they call him the White Bull? He was so handsome when he was younger. Even in Essos he’s well known.”

“Yes. I would listen to him for hours while I was growing up, so impressed by his talent, and I had a chance to meet him. It blew my mind.”

“So what don’t you want to jinx?” Margaery asked, sipping her champagne. “And how is it that I don’t know about any of this? It’s great news.”

“It just happened two days ago. He liked my input about the game when we discussed it afterwards. We took a picture together and it was on the paper, so that’s why people recognize me.” She blushed. “He said he’d talk to Garlan about having me cover all the games from the cabin. It will make for amazing articles to discuss my notes with him after the matches.”

Dany raised her flute of champagne in the air. “Let’s drink to that!” The glasses clinked and they all drank. “Looks like we’re getting our ducks in a row.”

And so they were. Lannister & Co. had officially ceased to exist, the money had been handed out and there was nothing left to show for it. Brienne was just happy that all of them could put that part of their story behind them. The future seemed much brighter now that Dany had founded Dragonstone Inc. alongside Tyrion, with a small investment from Jaime to support them. The Lannister & Co. investors had flocked to it when they found out the dwarf was involved, knowing it implied that all the contacts and business structure of the previous corporation would be maintained, minus all the issues that had arisen with Tywin’s death. She was glad to know that Jaime was willing to stay out of it after the harsh lessons he had learned, but Daenerys had so many big charity projects in mind that Brienne was convinced she’d bully Jaime into running one as restitution for his intricate web of deceit.

They finally caught a glimpse of Sansa with a huge smile on her face. She wore a stunning jade dress and high heels and her hair was up in a messy bun to shake away the heat. “I’m so glad you’re all here,” she told them. “How was it?”

All of them cheered and Dany poked her in the stomach teasingly. “Amazing,” she said, “Soon we won’t see your face anymore from all those reporters hogging you.”

The redhead smiled shyly. “They just want a few interviews. It’ll be great publicity for The Rainbow Guard. If we get enough features we’ll be able to start selling bigger quantities and reach places like White Harbor and Winterfell.”

“Hear, hear!”

Their cups rang again.

–––

Brienne was undressing in her room when Jaime entered after locking the doors and turning off all the lights. He watched as she took off her flats, carefully placed them in the closet and struggled to pull down the zipper of her simple, elegant gray dress down her back. She would never ask for help, it was an automatic reaction for her to do everything she could on her own, never out of pride but out of simple habit.

He approached her and pulled down the zipper for her, causing her to glance shyly in his direction. After over a year of marriage, there were still things that made her blush, words that would make her shudder, unspoken gestures that she would appreciate so much they made her eyes shine.

He kissed her shoulder as he pulled down the sleeve of the dress, trying to count her freckles, but there were so many that he lost himself in them. His right arm slipped around her waist, pulling her close. The back of her neck smelled of the perfume Margaery had brought her from the Free Cities, vanilla with a hint of something fruity like coconut.

“I think we should have a honeymoon,” he told her, nuzzling his head in her neck. “It’s only fair.”

She flinched slightly at the touch, as if he startled her, but then stayed still. The shifts in their relationship had been too intense, producing a sense of distance between them, as if the ground had cracked between them and the crevice had deepened after each fight, each reckless word, each minute wasted by not being together. Step by step they managed to reach a middle ground that was suitable enough for both of them, but there was still a void where their previously unquestionable trust had been.

Jaime felt as drawn to her as he always had, wishing for her touches and her attention, thinking back to the days when she would rise with the sun to pick fresh strawberries to feed each other in bed, sneak a dirty note into the pocket of his jacket, massage his stump after feeling the strain of the prosthetic hand all day or steal a kiss from him in the moonlight when she thought him asleep.

Of course she was still affectionate with him and she had not rejected his advances, but he could feel her hesitation, like a dog that had been kicked one too many times and was afraid to return home. He had caressed her at night, kissed her gently, held her as she slept, they had continued to be together sporadically in a slow and clumsy manner, as if they were getting to know each other’s bodies again, but her reticence always flickered in her eyes. She could not hide her feelings from him even if she wanted him to think she was okay, it was the other side of her coin, he loved her for her innocence, but it also turned her into an open book in his eyes.

Once all the business with Lannister & Co. was done, Jaime saw a shift in her behavior. There as a relief that came from knowing he would be able to breathe again, that he’d be able to remove himself from a smothering environment and find his own way. He knew she felt it too, but it also meant that now they'd get their true second chance to take the bull by the horns; there was no longer any risk of her having to run away, of anything terrible happening, so all that was left standing in the way of their marriage was each other.

While his head rested against her neck, he felt movement in her jaw and knew she was biting her lip, throwing the dice to decide what to say, ambivalence clouding her feelings. A moment later she relaxed, ran her arms over his and nodded. “We do have a debt. And Lannisters always pay their debts.”

He chuckled. “Oh, but you have so dedicated yourself not to be one.”

“And I intend to continue doing it. I will be my father’s daughter until the day I die.”

Jaime nodded, running the tip of his nose against her ear. “I’ll have to agree with you. I don’t think we’d be in this position if you weren’t.”

She fell into a wistful silence and he could not help but feel a sense of calm after the storm. Her heart beat slowly; every passing second her pulse came back, strong and steady, giving her life, letting him enjoy her.

“Do you think the wounds will heal?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She ran her index finger along his arm. “We all have scars. I think maybe you and I collect them.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Are we masochistic?”

She turned around and gazed into his green eyes. “We’re human.”


	29. 478 - Goddess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 28, 29, 30 ]
> 
> Song: Blonde Redhead Feat. David Sylvian - Messenger ([here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5jj3KoVUpFM)).

**478  
** (Goddess)

Brienne was reading a book curled up on the armchair in their bedroom, engrossed by the author’s words, when she heard a car pull over in front of the house. She might not have noticed were it not for the fact that the street was always quiet so late. She brushed the thought away, dismissing it as someone visiting the neighbors or stopping to make a phone call. Two pages later the curiosity bit at her, not hearing the car leave. She looked out the window to find a familiar black BMW parked on the street and a figure in the dark leaning against it, looking toward the house.

Jaime had gone out with Tyrion and he would be late. She wondered what she should do, if she should just ignore it and act as if nothing was amiss, but a voice in her head prompted her to do otherwise. _Sometimes we need closure_ , she thought. _Does she?_

She threw on the first pair of shoes she found, her brown flats, and did not even bother combing her unruly hair or changing her simple shorts and white t-shirt. A feeling in her gut told her none of it mattered at this point.

Brienne walked out into the porch of their little townhouse, throwing on a sweater to shelter her from the cold breeze. The sky was completely clear and speckled with stars. There was silence and very few cars passing by, a quiet, a calm.

Cersei stood watching the stars. Everything about her was beautiful. The moonlight made her long golden locks shine brightly; her lips were slightly open to let out the smoke from the cigarette in her hand. Her dress was as dark as the night, a color she had never worn in her presence, which made her no less stunning. High-heeled red sandals adorned her feet. She would have never been able to walk in them in a million years, least of all as gracefully as Cersei did.

Brienne was not afraid, intimidated, or speechless. For once she would not bow before her strong presence. For once she did not feel like she needed to.

“You know he’s not here.” It was a statement. It was Tyrion’s birthday and she would know they’d be celebrating. Brienne had only arrived from a late shift an hour ago, so she had not been able to join them.

“I’m not here for him,” the woman replied with a softness in her voice that Brienne had never thought possible.

She nodded as a response – she already knew it, but wanted to confirm. There was nothing else to say. For the first time they met as equals, as more than adversaries. They met as women whose heart had been touched by the same man, women with dreams and ambitions of their own, women with souls worn out by disenchantment, hardened by life and tainted by betrayal.

Cersei’s fragility was palpable, like blood gushing from an open wound. She wore the expression of a woman crushed by her own weight, drowning in a sea of despair. Brienne had navigated that sea so many times that she could not help but feel stupefied. _Even the gods fall from their pedestals. Even greatness turns to ash.._.

When she gazed into her blue eyes, Brienne saw recognition for the first time. She had never been a woman to Cersei. She had always been a sheep, a fly to squat away, always a bump on the road and no more, but not today.

“What could you possibly give him that I couldn’t?” Her voice was so calm it threatened to break Brienne’s determination to remain unfazed. She brought the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. Seconds passed in silence, a car drove by, its lights fading at the end of the street.

“Kindness,” was all Brienne replied.

Cersei smiled a cynical smile. “Kindness is for fools. In life there is only power. There is only being at the top, lest you get trampled on.” A trail of smoke rose from the cigarette between her dainty fingers.

“You got trampled on all the same,” Brienne dared tell her, “as did your father.” She pushed past her doubts, her defenses and her apprehension. “In life there’s only honor. To be willing to believe that there are things worth sacrificing for… So you can live with your head held high.”

Cersei looked away, back into the night sky. “Why did he give you this?”

It did not take her long to reply softly, “Because I never asked for it.”

Minutes passed in silence. The cigarette was halfway down to the filter. The night breeze blew against them, sending Cersei’s beautiful locks of hair flying. Her green eyes were worn and despairing. The phone rang in the house next to hers for a few seconds, then stopped. The dog from four houses down barked at the sound, but soon calmed down.

“He loved you,” Brienne told her without restraint.

She laughed bitterly. “Once.”

She was down to the last of her smoke, so she tossed it on the floor and stepped on it with her perfect feet. Every movement was graceful and controlled, but the words that left her lips were threaded together by grief, making Brienne felt genuine sympathy for her for the first time in her life.

“I have been trampled on all my life,” she told Cersei. Green eyes met blue with bitterness. “I have been stepped on and humiliated and set apart. The fight never ends.” No fight in her life, anyway, not with her fists and legs, not with her short understanding of politics and influence, not with pen and paper at work. “But at its worst, there’s nowhere to go but up.”

The last of her claws clutched at her as her pride set like the sun sets in the horizon, one last gasp of air, one last breath of life before being submerged in the sea. “He will leave you. Women are just tools. Just pawns.”

She shook her head. “We are what we make ourselves to be.”

Cersei’s gaze averted hers with a sour smile. Without saying another word, she got in her car and drove away, leaving her to stand on the sidewalk by herself. _Closure_ , Brienne thought, absently running her thumb across the rings on her finger. _It works both ways_.


	30. 500 - Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue literally would not exist if I had not been listening to Wedding Song by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. [Here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdvP7l7pGJo).

**500  
** (Air)

His finger ran softly over her lips and she opened her blue oceans for him. A sliver of light snuck its way through the blinds, bathing her face in the sun. Baby blues where the light hit them, azure in the darkness, a faint glimmer at the top, pupils contracting as they were touched by clarity.

The skin on her lips stuck to his fingertip as he dragged it across them, dry, fleshy lips. Her breathing was faint, her heartbeats nearly imperceptible. The sheet covered her up to her shoulder blades as she lay on her belly, her skin tanned by the sun of Tarth the previous afternoon. She watched him wistfully, without uttering a single word, saying everything and nothing with her gaze, giving him what she would and keeping the rest deep inside herself, where he would never touch her, where she would always remain a mystery and he would rejoice as he sunk into her depths, always searching and never finding.

His thumb traveled over her crooked nose, broken and fixed and broken again, much like her soul, over her cheek, over her forehead, tracing a curvy road down her neck, reaching the freckles on her shoulders, brushing against them as if wanting to strip her of them and keep them to himself, small stars in a universe as infinite as the distance that separated them, shifting to bring them together, then apart, and then stumbling back into each other.

Her own fingers were still, resting on the pillow, unmoving as he traced caresses on her skin, his heart surrendering each beat to the music her body played, his mind blank but for the smallest hint of a smile that spread on her features, every line of her face resembling a blossoming flower in the rain, fighting the storm, pushing forward, never resting until every petal has spread to take in the sun.

It was then he stirred, slowly, heavily, inch by inch approaching her as she lay still as a sculpture, his hand daring to slide down the sheets, revealing her bare back, marveling at the way her flesh turned to goosebumps as she fabric brushed against her skin. His lips softly kissed the back of her neck, her spine, her bruised shoulder, a scar on her side, and unmoving she remained, petrified by him. The warmth of their moment pounded against him, his lackadaisical nature urging him to seek more, to convert it to lust and escape the affectionate, but it took his breath away to feel the weight of the hours spent together, the bite of the cold that had threatened to swallow them both, her laughter echoing through the corners of his mind, chasing the ghosts away and demanding its rightful place.

She let him kiss every inch of her back, turn her to the side, land soft kisses around her lips; she let him tell her those three words whose burden had kept him from repeating more than twice before, she heard them and absorbed them and he repeated them so she would know, so they would reverberate inside her mind, so she need never doubt them again; she let him hold her and kiss her lips and steal the air from her lungs, her stoicism dissolving, lowering her shield before him so he would land the final blow, the passion of the previous evening’s lovemaking fading beneath the intensity of the feelings concealed in them that only now came to the light.

She let him have her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The monster has been slayed! 
> 
> This was so long and so much more work than (500) Days of Brienne, but it was totally worth it having each of my kudoers and commenters along for the ride. Every single one of your kind words have stuck to my heart and motivated me and made me smile. I wrote this for you guys, anyway, so I'm happy you decided to join me!
> 
> Hopefully everything I promised was fulfilled (drugs - check, vows - check, Dornish version of The Hangover - check, Lannisters everywhere you look - check, and _lots_ of smut - super check). You may pick up a medal on your way out for the feat of reading through almost 110,000 words of both fics!
> 
> Thank you all for reading and sticking with this! :)


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